


Flight Zone

by technocouture



Series: Metamorphoses [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Luxury Store, Cam Boy Taeil, Cleithrophobia, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, special gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 14:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technocouture/pseuds/technocouture
Summary: Between Taeil and Kun — 16.929 inches.





	Flight Zone

**Author's Note:**

> end my life. i CANNOT BELIEVE i actually wrote this, it’s such a MESS and i’m so sorry…. special valentine’s gift for ellie and vy who came up with this ******taeil au and I blame them for enabling me
> 
> also loosely inspired by the line in 0 Mile. for this fic i’ve researched as much cam work as i could, but since i don’t have the experience of course it can’t be authentic or without inaccuracies! i hope the read is still good and enjoyable though. thank you guys for reading with me….even if this is……yea….
> 
> i also want to put a warning. i'm aware this series has unsettling tones and it's present in this fic as well. i've written with all intentions of consent during the scenes here, but i want to say please be careful when reading, because the atmosphere may not be what i was aiming for and i sincerely apologize for that.
> 
> flight zone: the maximum space surrounding a subject that if invaded will trigger escape behaviour. failure to keep adequate escape space will result in the subject damaging themselves

_cherryty is streaming_  
_…_  
_…_  
_winnie2 is watching_  
_24 more users are watching_  
_…_  
_winnie2 and 78 more users are watching_  
_47 users have tipped_  
_…_  
_…_  
_120 users and 33 guests are watching_  
_hello beautiful_  
_81 users have tipped!_  
_…_  
_…_  
_379 people are watching_  
_…_  
_…_  
_598 people are watching_  
_937 users and 547 guests are watching_  
_…_  
_…_  
_…  
moonlove has sent you a private chat request_

 

—

 

When Taeil was 8 years old he locked himself in a wardrobe playing hide-and-seek with his parents. There’s little he remembers of his solitary childhood other than that withering day snowed in his father’s townhouse, an accident that seemed unpreventable and, when Taeil will think back to it, _necessary_ —one day after so many of the same free innocence and carelessness when he suddenly became aware of himself enough to answer the passive world around him, a world that had become inaccessible over the years from how he was raised, strictly but resignedly, like a lone plant in the corner of a room, growing lovelessly. One day of circumstance for a boy who was deprived of affection, attention, self-consciousness, and true fear. One day of casualty. Taeil had always been told he was a _moony_ child.

The wardrobe was 10 feet tall, 6.5 feet long and 2.7 feet wide, and built in plastic like the rest of the household. It occupied a whole wall of his parent’s bedroom but was barely noticeable enough to be a presence. Taeil pulled open the door with the lock still in place, crawled in as far as he could and let it close without a thought. There was a mirror on the inside of the door and he watched the room speed through it in a blur as it came toward him. When it closed and the light disappeared, he was face to face with his reflection, alone in the dark.

He brought a hand to the glass and pushed, but it wouldn’t budge. He shook the door as hard as he could and called out. No one answered him. Then Taeil started to scream and thrash around, scared the wardrobe would fall on him, scared that he would run out of air. He cried loudly but no one came. He lied down and clutched his clothes as tightly as he could, screaming and crying, until he looked at himself in the mirror, and tried to feel less alone. He extended one arm toward the mirror and his palm pressed flat against the glass. Taeil’s eyes moved along the length of his arm, that small space separating them, and fell asleep holding onto it.

It was evening when he woke up to the shouts of his mother calling his name. Taeil knocked on the door and screamed against the glass. When they let him out, he fell down on the floor, and breathed out. His parents had been dismissive of him as usual, having left for work without letting him know, always unbothered with his games. Taeil didn’t say anything to them.

Since that day things seemed to change. Taeil kept his doors and windows unlocked and convinced his parents to give him his own keys. At school he sat closer to the exits, was always first to leave class and the last to come back after recess. Taeil was a calm, easy-going person, not the most sociable amongst his classmates, but he enjoyed attention. He liked being noticed. He could always feel whenever someone was looking at him, as if he had an eye at the back of his head. It was fun to play when he was being watched. It made him brave and _hyperaware_ , like he had to survey each of his movements, one step, twitch, blink, breath, and inch at a time. It forced him to act natural, as antithetical as it seemed.

His parents didn’t look at him anymore, though, they had stopped looking for him a long time ago. Taeil never cared but there was a limit that he could take at being ignored, especially if he was at home. Soon it became obvious that there was no kind of relationship in his family. They were that kind of families benumbed by work and easy money. Taeil didn’t find it in him to mind, on the contrary it felt better that way. There was no form of attachment he had to fabricate to feel happy or free. He cared for his parents, but he didn’t have to pretend that he wanted or needed them, and they didn’t have to either. It was simple and undemanding like that. Sometimes Taeil had thoughts that there should’ve been a conversation at least, somewhere in his teen years before the compulsions had fully become habit, but like most of the things in his life, he lets them go.

When Taeil turns 18 he moves out into a loft apartment, one on the highest floors that gives an open view of the city. The building is downtown, near his college where he studies in industrial design. Taeil likes fashion and that idea of exposure, and he wants to work at the company firm affiliated with his mother’s office business in the heart of the city. He knows he’s guaranteed to get a job there as soon as he finishes his studies, and his parents still send him monthly allowances, so there’s no rush or worry about money at all.

Then in his third year, Taeil meets an exchange student named Sicheng. He’s cute but looks cold, and he’s odd sometimes when he speaks. Taeil has good friends he keeps in touch with and he’s dated scarcely, but it’s the first time he finds himself really liking someone. Sicheng has something about him that’s irresistible, it makes Taeil want to know him more. He has warm maroon hair, dark eyes, round cheekbones, and is 5.9 feet tall. He studies finance and is passionate about his field, but he’s been lonely ever since he settled in the city, even though he’s shy about meeting new people. Taeil and him become fast friends after a few awkward meetings. Sicheng, with the right approach, likes looking at and talking to people, and Taeil likes it a lot when he looks at and talks to him.

He thinks it’s a crush, until one day over lunch Sicheng tells him he’s seeing someone, and despite the faint ache in his chest, Taeil realizes he really just admires him more than anything. Sicheng is charismatic, drawing everyone to him, and he either doesn’t notice or just pretends not to, which Taeil wishes he could be. But Sicheng tells him he’s one of a kind: “Unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he says one night when they’re drunk and snacking on the balcony of his loft. Taeil giggles, feeling warm all over, though he catches the strange intonation in Sicheng’s voice, and the intent expression over his pretty face.

They come over to each other’s places everyday but mostly stay in Taeil’s loft, eating, talking, watching TV, and playing songs on his guitar. The only times they don’t make plans to meet are the regular evenings when Sicheng has dance classes. Taeil’s been to Sicheng’s apartment a few times, 1.3 miles away from his street, an expensive place on the top floors of a similar sleek building. It’s neat and cozy, with some furniture arranged weirdly, but the first thing that had caught his eyes was the chess set on the balcony table. Sicheng loves chess and played competitively when he was younger, but now it’s just there as a souvenir more than anything.

“You know how to play?” he asks him that first evening.

“I don’t,” Taeil says.

Sicheng sits him down and teaches him. It takes some time to memorize the moves of each piece, as he’s also distracted by the city’s night sight next to them, but he gets the hang of it eventually. There’s no beating Sicheng at the game, however, he’s accepted that challenge quickly. Taeil is impulsive when he plays, too intent on attacking, and he’s more than often left with his king alone on the board, Sicheng’s many pieces surrounding him.

“These are your flight squares,” he says, dragging his finger from his queen to Taeil’s king, four spaces between, then points at the three squares on the left and right of it. “They’re the only places you can move to escape.”

“But it only delays the inevitable,” Taeil answers with a smile, grimacing when Sicheng laughs in that low voice of his and knocks his king down.

One day Sicheng gives him a spare key for his apartment, telling him it’s to make easier their trips back and forth. It makes Taeil happy to know he trusts him, so he does the same. They practically live together, but Taeil never meets the guy Sicheng’s seeing, even as it looks like it’s starting to get serious between them. By the winter time, they don’t hang out as often as they used to, much to Taeil’s annoyance. He’s convinced he’s jealous, whenever Sicheng mentions his boyfriend, but then he thinks maybe he’s _envious_ . When Sicheng talks about him or checks his phone with a fond look in his eyes, Taeil doesn’t feel left out more than he feels _longing_. Maybe he wishes Sicheng would look at him that way, or maybe he wants someone of his own to make him feel loved, make him as happy as Sicheng is when he comes back from a good date or gets a text in the middle of dinner.

“Don’t be sad, Taeillie,” Sicheng coos on the left end of the couch while they eat pizza. He never sits or stands close enough to Taeil. “I love you too, you old man.” He pauses mid-bite and lowers his slice. “You want a hug?”

Taeil sticks out his tongue. When Sicheng doesn’t move, he promptly opens his arms, then Sicheng snuggles him against the cushions. He’s odd at times like that, asking for permission or doing things out of the blue, though some part of Taeil feels reassured by it, to know they’re close, and can always be closer.  


One evening in spring, Taeil forgets his laptop at Sicheng’s apartment, and he goes after class to get it. Sicheng’s at dance practice tonight, and Taeil thinks that he could surprise him with dinner when he comes back. As he opens the door of the apartment, he hears a muffled sound coming from the inside, and hurries to check who’s there. Taeil walks in, closes the door and quickly goes to the bedroom.

Moaning. Taeil stops in his steps a bit late. Sicheng’s on the silk sheets of his bed, half-naked and riding a vibrator in front of his laptop. His glazed-over eyes go from his screen to him, and Taeil completely freezes up. Sicheng doesn’t stop, though, just slows down and looks at him with a bored expression.

“Oh,” he mutters over the _pinging_ noises on his laptop, “my friend’s here.”

Taeil stares at him wide-eyed, his thoughts unable to find their proper course. Without looking away, Sicheng lies on his back and reaches for the webcam on his laptop, lowering it an inch. “He isn’t supposed to be here…”

Taeil’s eyes move to the webcam. The _pinging_ sounds mix with the increasing vibrations of the toy, and Sicheng closes his eyes and resumes moaning. The light on the screen moves faintly, and Taeil, against all reason, approaches the side of the bed to see what’s on it. The space between them decreases with each nervous step: 10 feet, 7, 4.3, 1.6. Sicheng doesn’t move back. When Taeil’s knees touch the mattress and he enters the webcam’s view, he sees the video feed on the screen, sees the side of his hip up to his waist and Sicheng’s lithe body sprawled out beneath him, the white vibrator poking out of his ass. What looks like a chatroom window is opened beside the feed, messages and notices flooding it.

“Fuck,” Sicheng suddenly whines, bringing his hands on each side of his stomach. Taeil could close the distance between them, but he absolutely doesn’t dare move. “Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna come— _ah_ —”

He arches up, locking his teeth and crying out, and Taeil turns his head toward the screen where he sees the chat log go faster and Sicheng’s body shake up. He thinks he feels horror at intruding on this, the most private and _vulnerable_ moment of his friend, so inopportune and uninvited it’s like he’s _violating_ something between them, their relationship—but instead Taeil finds himself awestruck at the loud display in front of him, Sicheng’s gasps, the audio of the feed, the _pings_ and chimes from the laptop’s speakers that snap him out of his daze. When he looks back at Sicheng, there’s come leaking down his navel and his thick lips are bitten red. He has the most _numb_ expression and look in his dark eyes, the most mesmerizing thing Taeil’s ever seen, and other than the heat pooling in his gut, there’s a hot chill over his skin that arouses him in a different way.

Sicheng turns off the vibrator, pulls it out gently, and stares at him for a while. Taeil’s mouth his dry, his hands are tingling, and he can’t look away. Sicheng turns to his laptop and types in the chatroom.

“Sorry, do you guys mind if I end this earlier tonight? I really wasn’t expecting him. I’ll see you all later, thank you again for the tips.” He gives a small smile to the webcam, then ends the recording. He closes the laptop and goes to clean himself. Taeil’s head is blowing up. He tries as hard as he can to calm down, but he can’t get the image of the feed out of his eyes or the sounds out of his ears. The creeping sensation on his skin at being revealed like that, at being exposed, like _he_ was the one being watched, being expected all of a sudden. It gives Taeil an adrenaline rush.

Sicheng is watching him, he notices after a few distressing moments. Taeil’s senses kick back in, and he hastily apologizes: “I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts, no tone in his voice. “This is kind of my fault.”

Taeil wants to assure him it’s not, but then he meets Sicheng’s narrowed eyes and he realizes he’s _afraid_. It’s the first time Taeil’s seen him this way, and he panics when he sees a trace of disdain in his look as well.

“Yeah,” Sicheng says sternly, “I cam.”

“I’m not—no, I’m not against it at all, Sicheng,” Taeil splutters. “Please don’t think that. I swear.”

Sicheng relaxes, but he’s still half-glaring at him. Without another word, he starts to dress and clean his bed, and Taeil is unable to react. He watches Sicheng move away from him, the space apparent between them suddenly, and Taeil starts getting scared as well.

“You left your laptop on the kitchen table,” Sicheng tells him, putting away the vibrator and lube. He sits down on the bed again and runs a hand in his hair. “I’m going to order sushi…”

“I can’t eat sushi,” Taeil answers, then he shakes his head and sits down on his left. “Sicheng, I’m really sorry! I don’t want this to change us, I swear I’m not against it, and I don’t think of you badly or anything. I…”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “You what?”

Taeil closes his mouth and swallows. Why is he shaking so much? Is it Sicheng? Is it the camming? “I’m…” His eyes dart back to the laptop. “…curious.”

Sicheng gives him an unimpressed look, and Taeil’s words just spill from his mouth. “I mean, can I ask you—like. It’s hot.”

“Yeah,” Sicheng utters, “OK.”

He's wary. Taeil takes a deep breath and mumbles. “Um, how long… Why do you do it?”

Sicheng settles onto his stomach and makes himself comfortable before he replies: “I wanted some extra cash first, also I didn’t know anyone here and I was kind of bored.” He opens his laptop again and scrolls through the chatroom window. Taeil sees the dark layout of the website he’s on. “After a while I got to know some users online. There’s a tight community on this site. I mostly cam now just to keep up with them.”

Taeil’s eyes widen when he sees Sicheng’s profile, the number _116 363_ of followers next to his username, _winnie2_. Are all those people watching him? Taeil is immediately, thoroughly seduced. Has Sicheng shown himself to each of them? How often does he do shows, how long are they?

Sicheng laughs suddenly. “You made me, like, 500 tonight,” he says. Taeil peers closer at the token money on the page, then at Sicheng’s score under his name. He’s relatively high up.

“All… all of them watch your shows?”

“I have a big following, yeah. I made some friends on here too, so I don’t feel like stopping soon.” He snorts. “There are few cammers more popular than me.”

Taeil stares at the page, the rows and the room previews, watches the few people stripping and masturbating, some even having sex. He wonders how much Sicheng has done. Could Taeil do that? Could he do as much? And it’s only when Sicheng stops scrolling that Taeil realizes he's looking at him. He turns to meet his gaze. It’s slightly scrutinizing, but Taeil welcomes it eagerly. Hungrily.

“What are you thinking about?” Sicheng asks him.

“I don’t know,” he says, “I just think it’s interesting.”

Sicheng blinks. There’s a moment of pause before he tilts his head and bores his eyes impossibly deeper into Taeil's. “Do you want to try?”

Taeil feels his stomach twist. He makes a strained shrugging motion and smiles weakly. “I mean… This doesn’t change anything between us, right?”

“You just watched me have an orgasm,” Sicheng says.

At that, Taeil lowers his head and feels a heat of shame rise in him. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. I said it’s fine.” He closes the chatroom window and moves his cursor to the log-out link, then stops and turns to give Taeil a long look. It’s strange, and slightly worried. “You really want to try? …I can help you make an account now.”

Taeil’s heart pounds, and after some hesitation he agrees. Sicheng opens a new private window and goes onto the site’s registration form. He clicks a few things to make the account, then lets Taeil input his information, going back to his profile occasionally to show him how it’s displayed. Taeil doesn’t think he’s in his right mind as he types, but he’s never been more aware of what he’s doing. Sicheng makes him read the form agreement, tells him about sponsors, the cash-in methods, contacting the company and their protection policy. Taeil tries to take it in carefully, nodding along like he’s explaining a banking plan or a chess strategy. Nothing dubious, no implications. All of it explicit and laid bare. It’s exciting.

Sicheng tells Taeil that he’ll promote him on his next stream, and since he’s apparently one of the most popular cammers in the community, he should have no trouble getting views. Taeil enters _moonlove_ as his username and leaves his preferences to ‘open’. As soon as the account is created, Sicheng goes on his page and follows him.

Taeil feels like the world’s turned upside down, flipped over like a coin in the blink of an eye. Sicheng orders sushi and gives him some gyozas left in his fridge. They talk like usual, even if the topics have changed. Sicheng and him are sitting closer than ever. Taeil’s looking at his last dumpling for a minute before he asks: “Does your boyfriend know?”

Mouth full, he nods. Taeil squints at him. “What does he think?”

“He doesn’t mind,” he answers, “not at all. As long as I love him, at the end of the day.”

Simple, undemanding. The envy flares in Taeil’s chest again, and he feels bad for it. How lucky is Sicheng? Taeil needs to be happy for him, and grateful for the circumstances, he should be glad that the situation turned out this way.

Sicheng laughs into his beer bottle. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? Feel left out?”

“You’re unbelievable, literally,” Taeil retorts, sticking out his tongue. Sicheng teases him with a wink, wrapping his pink lips over the head of the bottle. Taeil buries his face in his hand and cackles soundlessly.

No resistance. The tension strings up in Taeil’s body for the rest of the week. Sicheng helps install the webcam on his laptop and goes with him to the store to pick a few toys. Taeil’s not inexperienced in sex, and he isn’t intimidated by this new world he’s entering, on the contrary the presentation seems to make him extra confident, extra ready to face it. He’s expecting something of himself that he never did before.

The night of the first stream, Taeil calculates the range of the webcam’s view to know where his face won’t be fully discernible. The perimeter is approximately a square, 3.3 feet each side, if his neck is about 2 feet from the webcam’s eye. Taeil practices for a while until Sicheng texts him that he should start. He applies his favourite lotion, tidies his face a bit, puts on shorts and the biggest sweater he has, then opens the stream. Sicheng’s already watching with a few other users, and Taeil’s immediately turned on. He imagines the strangers on the other side of their screens, looking at him in his oversized clothing and the bland background of his room.

The first thing Taeil does is laugh. It’s a reflex and he can’t help it—it’s kind of funny. Then to his surprise, someone tips. It makes him laugh even more, and soon he’s doubled over on his bed, smiling so much his face hurts, listening to the occasional _pings_ coming from his stream. When Taeil looks at the chatroom, he sees there's about 50 people watching, and reads a lot of the comments calling him _cute_.

“Hello,” he singsongs, “I’m _Winnie_ ’s friend.”

In the chatroom, Sicheng writes _xoxo_ , and someone else tips. Taeil feels hot all over his skin. He settles more comfortably in bed and, with Sicheng’s encouragements, starts talking with some users. He tries out topics to start with, and from what Sicheng’s told him, an audience loves surprises. Taeil teases them with their banter, entertaining a small fantasy of the big cam star and his rookie accomplice, playing cheeky and shy when he needs to. It’s spontaneous but perfectly natural at the same time; Taeil feels like he’s directing a game, one he somehow already knows how to win.

After a few minutes, someone asks what to call him. Taeil ponders for a moment, then answers: “Moony.” The chatroom suddenly floods with requests. Taeil picks out a few, but he’s impatient now. He pulls up his sweater, shows off his legs, sucks on his fingers and keeps laughing. There’s some self-consciousness as he obeys and exposes himself, and a part of him almost can’t believe he’s doing this, but that effect is what spurs him on, dares him to do more.

Someone writes: _show your tongue_ , and Taeil lets it hang over his lower lip. The air falls on his open mouth, thick and heavy, and he involuntarily moans. Something possesses him then, an impish, rowdy feeling, unruly, almost like he’s drunk. They’re all watching him. They’re all going to watch him get off.

Taeil moves his hand to his underwear and starts talking: “You’ve all got me so hard, I’m still new to this. Why’re you all being so mean to me…” He whines, slips his fingers down and starts stroking himself. It’s easy, slick and wet, and his entire body burns up. His sleeves push over his knuckles and he hears the notifications increase on the stream.

Then he tunes himself out. He listens instead to the _pinging_ and chiming from his laptop, the audio of the feed, then glances at the camera and feels the heat build up in his gut when he sees himself on the screen. He closes his eyes and imagines the blank faces and pairs of eyes surrounding him, catching his every move, twitch, breath, and inch of his skin. It’s exhilarating, so unbelievably _hot_ , nothing like Taeil’s ever felt being watched. It’s likes he’s outside.

Too fast, all at once. Right as he’s about to come, he short-circuits and loses the feeling of association with his hand, becoming extracted, disembodied, then he jerks up and comes, spilling over his fingers and his sweater with a ragged moan. His laptop is ringing. After he catches his breath, he eyes the feed, brings his palm to his mouth and licks it all off, slowly, dragging,  _watching_ himself. Then he inches closer to see the chatroom, the flurry of messages and notices that keeps coming: _so loud, you’re a natural, you’re so pretty, so fucking hot, I’d fuck you in a heartbeat._ Everyone has tipped.

It’s out. It’s running, jumping, flying, blowing up in all directions. It’s a switch he’s slammed head-on, like a child in front of a colourful button, breaking it apart. Taeil’s stepped onto this territory and exploded like a landmine. The surface turns inside-out, revolving, projecting him outwards— _out_ , the world is out, Taeil is out, into this place where he can do everything he wants and where everyone can see him. Life is suddenly offering him so much. It’s like a door’s been opened.

On his phone, Sicheng's text is a scramble of letters and emojis.  


His first stream earns him a loyal base of followers, most of them from Sicheng’s group, but Taeil’s attracted attention with his score. He’s made quite a deal of tokens in just an hour, and for a debut it’s impressive. Taeil counts his earnings: praise, follows, requests. Curious eyes are on him now. There’s a new player in the game.

For the rest of his semester, he sets a schedule and builds his circle. Through Sicheng’s contacts Taeil meets the community of cammers in the city. They’re all from different backgrounds, doing the work for different reasons, and when asked why he joined Taeil just likes to smile. They give him some tips and offer him joint shows for the start of the summer. Taeil makes friends with a few and follows them back, but he’s intent on undoing the ladder rather than climbing it. He wants to have as many followers as Sicheng, and he wants to get there as fast as he can.

At the end of spring Taeil graduates with flying colours and works his way into the community. He makes regular streams, trying out toys, accessories, makeup and clothing. There’s mirrors on his closets that Taeil moves around to get multiple angles for the webcam, and he makes a lot of tokens when he uses them. Taeil loves using them. After a few weeks he receives some gifts and uses them in his streams, making sure to become familiar with his followers like Sicheng’s advised him to. He makes each of his shows more provocative than the previous, building up expectation and his image, always ending on a new promise for more. And they always want more. _Touch yourself, fuck yourself, open your mouth, sing a song._ Taeil is hooked on it, their admiration, their hunger, their greed, something they think only he can provide, something only he can accomplish. It’s a different kind of appetite.

He gains some weight and muscle over the summer. Sometimes when Taeil looks in the mirror in his room he’s unable to recognize himself, but each time when he looks at the video feed on his laptop it’s like he finds it again, his bare body under the soft lighting and smiling face hidden. He talks and laughs a lot, and learns that people like his voice, like it when he’s loud, unashamed of what he says, of how far he goes. Taeil is unafraid. And he makes that known on the morning of his birthday in a special stream he’s publicized as much as he could. Taeil takes his laptop, breakfast, lube and toys, and exits onto his balcony. The cold morning air hits his flushed skin and he settles on the couch in front of the glass baluster. Buildings, cars, sunlight, noise. He puts his laptop and plate down, finds his 2 feet from the webcam's eye, then starts the stream.

It’s the show that makes him blow up. Taeil’s the lovely cam boy who shamelessly fucked himself out in the open, on a pricey high-rise building downtown, moaning and crying his throat out, pretty red lips sucking on strawberries and chocolate dipped in honey. Taeil screams to the sky when he comes, comes harder than he ever has, but it sounds rather like he’s singing, belting out a note before it cracks at the end. Everyone can hear. Everyone can see. When he looks back at the stream, he’s made over 14 000 tokens, and there are 2 016 people watching him.

His score shoots up, and soon Taeil’s made himself a reputation. He has more and more followers, gets heavy cheques each week, but he’s still not satisfied. Taeil _loves_ camming, and he wants more. More eyes, more praise, more requests. Sicheng’s been acting distant since that birthday show, but he’s all ears when Taeil asks for help, though there’s that same odd look in his eyes. Taeil doesn’t watch Sicheng’s shows for fear of inconveniencing their relationship, mostly because he’s aware that Sicheng’s still dating, but it’s also because he doesn’t want to be tempted to follow other cammers’ style—so he doesn’t know what it is they do if they want a boost.

Sicheng, after some reluctance, tells him about bets, joint shows, and a sort of ritual the members of his circle have, in which they each streamed sex with one service cammer in the group. Taeil meets with them and befriends the guy, a 6.1 feet-tall and handsome fellow named Johnny, who agrees to be his first cam-mate, free of charge. “You’re cute,” he explains, smirking when Taeil insists he gives him a cut. “And it’s a pleasure.”

The evening of the stream, Taeil shows him the perimeter of the webcam, drawing with his fingers the square and the space from his neck to the camera’s eye. Johnny makes a curious face, nods along and laughs, then lies down. Taeil’s eyes roam from his big chest to his crotch, then he hooks a finger between his lips, crawls onto the man’s lap, and presses the key on his laptop.

Johnny is, without a doubt, the biggest Taeil’s ever had. He actually beats the heaviest vibrator in his collection, stretching him to a point where it badly hurts, but Taeil savors the burn. He’s already worked up from the teasing, and the sounds on the stream haven’t stopped for a second. But the moment Taeil fully seats himself down, Johnny sits up and handles him on his back, and suddenly it’s like he’s grown taller, bigger, heavier, and _closer_ where he crowds Taeil in the bed, fucking him without dawdling. Taeil immediately feels _squashed_ , feels so smaller than he already is, but he can’t catch up with that distracted thought at the back of his head, when he’s completely overwhelmed by how hard Johnny’s fucking him, by the force of his thrusts, the deep and punching feeling at the bottom of his gut. It’s like his insides are being dug out. It’s so furiously _hot_ and Taeil can’t feel anything else. 

While it takes him longer to come, when he does it’s nothing but _torn_ out of him, along with a breathless scream. He’s dizzy, a little nauseous, and he can’t focus on the sounds properly. Johnny gives him a moment to recover, smiling cheekily. Taeil looks at the stream, the chatroom, then after a few minutes piecing his mind back up, he pushes Johnny down and scrambles back on him. “I wanna ride you,” he breathes out, and Johnny obliges, watching him with interest.

It’s better the second time, more comfortable, more breathable. He makes Johnny come apart under him like pressing a lemon. They go for about four rounds, Taeil keeping himself on top, before he can barely move his legs or speak, then Johnny’s the one who thanks everyone and ends the show. Taeil lets him stay the night and Johnny settles on his right side, and ends up talking to him about life. He talks about the kind of people he’s met, the kind of sex he’s had, and the ways he gets around them. Johnny’s seen and done a lot of things.

Taeil knows this kind of work isn’t irreproachable, nor is it uncorrupted, and there’s a whole system of principles he’s aware of and that Sicheng warned him he needed to keep to. There’s competition and exploitation, lots of people profit and lots of people don’t. “It’s sex but it’s also more than that. It’s telling people what to do. It’s _watching_. It’s doing things for money. _Anything_ for money.” Taeil’s encountered some shady people in his streams occasionally, kicked them out when he needed to, but there’s always some part of him that feeds off any expectation, even the most disturbing of requests. He’s not that considerate of his limits, even if he knows what he _couldn’t_ do.

But with each show the inclination in him grows. Taeil experiments with Johnny and a few other cammers, wanting to know just how much he can take, how far he’ll go, though if there’s one thing Taeil’s sure about is that he doesn’t like being tied. He submits when he’s into a role but restraints don’t make him feel comfortable, and if he needs to be put down he’ll just hold back on his own, so he knows he has control over his way out. He always needs a way out. Taeil fucks people, pleases them, hurts them; he gets fucked, indulged and spoiled, then choked and beaten, in every place, in every position, with every _thing_ , and still after the pain and high, gruelling hours of moving around inside the eye’s frame, accumulating views and praises and demands for more—nothing fully satisfies him.

He starts selling some video content on his profile, not because he needs the money or the score, but just because it gets him off. Taeil films himself in the mirror, on his balcony, in restrooms and even once in a car. He also doesn’t do private shows because he wants as much of an audience as possible. The more people watching him, the braver he feels, the better he is. And Taeil wants to be better. So one weekend in August he makes a betting event with a cammer named Jungwoo, over who’s able to come first and the one who loses has to get fucked by two people at once. They’ve never had more people watching the stream. Jungwoo finishes first, but if Taeil’s being honest he wasn’t very intent on winning. He knows people want to see him get fucked apart, and he wants to show them that he can. Which is how he ends up with Johnny underneath him and Jungwoo at his back, fucking himself relentlessly on them both, wailing, crying, choking on their fingers shoved in his mouth, and Taeil comes so much it’s like he’s going to bleed out, but he clings onto the _pinging_ noises echoing in the bedroom, and the reflections in his mirrors surrounding each side, his reminders that eyes are on him, and that he has to stay aware.

In a matter of months, Taeil’s become one of the most favored cammers, not more popular than Sicheng, but he’s made a big name for himself. Sicheng and him still hang out, having lunch, working out together, playing chess and going bar hopping. Taeil dislikes clubs, but he loves dancing. There are many other things for which he feels that way: he hates the morning rushes but prefers public transport, and he avoids changing rooms but stays too long inside looking at himself in the mirrors. He hates being alone as well, but always feels better with the space.

“You’re like an antinomy, sometimes,” Sicheng says to him one night at his apartment. “Stuck between two things.”

But other times Sicheng spaces out, stares off like he’s wistful about something. Taeil’s noticed the change in his behavior. He doesn’t sing as much when they play guitar together. He’s not as smiling when he beats Taeil at chess. Instead he eyes the many fading bruises on his skin. Sicheng doesn’t really look at him the way he used to. They see each other a little less often than before, and though it’s not like they’re joined at the hip or anything, some part of Taeil admits he misses those days when it was just the two of them. When it felt closer between them with the space.

“I’m not stuck between them,” Taeil replies. “Maybe I just _am_ them.”

Sicheng doesn’t answer, just looks at him wearily, and checkmates him once again.

By the end of the summer, Taeil kind of has more money than he knows what to do with, so he adopts a black kitten he names Yangyang. Taeil has a whole stream where he does nothing but show him off, and he makes 2 000 tokens in an hour. That same day he gets a letter from his mother’s affiliated company confirming his position for the job and giving him his first schedules. Everything is set and ready.

Taeil doesn’t think his life could get any better. He has everything he always knew he wanted, and somehow more. Somehow, he found himself _more_ , and got it all. He’s watched, he’s wanted, he’s adored. There’s nothing he can’t do or have, nothing that he could change, even if sometimes when he looks in the mirror and feels kind of out of touch with himself, with his reflection, his grown body that’s gone through so much in a short year, but Taeil knows that, like almost everything else in due time, he’ll let it go.

 

—

 

The early November morning greets Taeil from his kitchen window. His first day at work isn’t officially a work day for him, as he’s only going to be given a tour and be introduced to the team, but it still merits a special breakfast, so he cooks up something hot and feeds Yangyang his favorite fish. Sicheng still hasn’t replied to his text asking to meet for lunch, and Taeil tries not to feel upset. It’s been a while since autumn that Sicheng’s been kind of withdrawn. Taeil wonders if something happened.

The building of the company is 340 522 sq feet and 5 miles from the loft. He takes the bus downtown to the main street, on the avenue of upscale boutiques and hotels surrounding the center mall. Taeil used to shop there regularly but never visited the floor where he works: the tailoring department. It’s a global business for a reputable company he’s already familiar with, and he’s eager to start working, so Taeil knows that he has nothing to worry about.

Inside the spacious and brightly-lit building, he takes the stairs to the 6th floor where he meets with the building manager, a 5.7 feet tall and sweet young man who goes by the name Ten. He’s wearing the chic kind of clothing Taeil’s expected from the head of the executive department, and it makes him excited. Ten looks delighted to see him as well.

“Hi there, Taeil? Welcome to Couture-Tech,” he greets with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Taeil answers, shaking his hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, yes! I’m sure we’ll have the best time—your submissions were very impressive,” Ten says, taking his arm and walking him toward the elevator. “I’ll show you around first, but tell me about your designs you sent me! I’m really interested.”

They talk like old friends who haven’t seen each other in years. Ten is kind, witty and sharp-tongued, and he’s unabashed when he tells Taeil about how things really work around here, what he should or shouldn’t do, rather than what he can or can’t. He shows him around the different floors and departments, the storage and delivery rooms, then introduces him to the executives and informs him about the monthly meetings and parties.

When they take the elevator to the 16th floor, Taeil asks about the fire exits and emergency procedures. Ten gives him a download of a map on his phone and assures him they have a perfect working system in place. “Oh, the manager of your shop will give you the details. He’s quite nice, don’t worry. We have lots of customers that come for his expertise. He’s here right now, so you can meet him before you start tomorrow.”

The elevator dings, and Taeil steps out as soon as the doors open. Ten takes him around the floor to the section at the very back, a wide but stocked space with glistening black walls, elegant furniture and neat clothing on display. Taeil’s admiring the fancy layout of the shop, when his eyes fall on the blond man standing in front of the watch display. He turns to them just as their eyes meet, and Taeil is actually _stunned_. The moment is undeniably _electric_ ; a spark crackles in the pit of his chest, then turns into a shockwave that discharges through his entire body. It completely paralyzes him in the instant, burns out all his nerves, and Taeil immediately knows he’s _fucked_.

“How are you doing?” Ten, smiling cheerily, calls the man over. “Better morning?”

“Um, yeah,” he answers, closing the encasing and walking toward them. 21 feet, 18.6, 7.2. He’s taller than both Ten and Taeil, and looks even more handsome up close. The stern expression over his face is a little intimidating, but it’s the tousled blonde hair, big eyes and pretty round lips that betray it. He’s wearing a deep-red gingham jacket with a gold blouse under two dark sweaters, and Taeil kind of feels underdressed. Stripped and uncovered. _Exposed_.

1.4 feet. The man stops in front of them but doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at him intently, deliberately, in a kind of _measuring_ manner that gets Taeil worked up. Taeil checks him out as well. About 5.8 feet tall, and absolutely _gorgeous_. Something about his dark eyes makes Taeil nervous, and awfully _tempted_.

Ten’s peppy smile wavers. “Kun, this is our new sales representative, Taeil,” he says, glancing between them. “Uh—Taeil, this is Kun, our development manager—OK.”

Taeil smiles wide and extends his hand. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Kun answers, taking it firmly. His hands are strong, slender, a perfect fit. He has a light voice, simple and kind, and it’s music to Taeil’s ears. It matches the rest of his look. Everything about him is attractive.

“OK,” Ten repeats, “right.”

“I look forward to working with you,” Taeil says slowly, stringing out his voice.

Kun nods lightly. “Yes, me too.”

“Now, try to sound happier, why don’t you.” Ten nudges Taeil’s arm. “Don’t mind it. He’s just grumpy because the interns wouldn’t stop calling him old.”

“Ten, for the last time, we’re the same age,” Kun sighs.

“And I still look younger.” He throws him a wink and Kun rolls his eyes. Taeil laughs along, keeping his eye on Kun—his colleague, his _manager_. He can’t stop looking. From what Ten’s talked about himself, they both actually shouldn’t be older than Taeil.

There’s a short moment of pause between them, then Ten makes a face and claps his hands. “OK—well. You’re all set, that’s it for today. You’ll be starting tomorrow with Kun. Let me take you to lunch downstairs. What do you like?”

Taeil smiles. “Something hot?”

“Mm—right,” Ten says. “We got just the things.”

Taeil licks his lips, and absolutely relishes the split-second Kun’s eyes dart to his mouth. He gives the man a small wave. “It was nice meeting you. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Kun answers.

Ten shoots him a stiff grin, then takes Taeil’s arm and turns him around, walking him back to the elevator, and Taeil counts each step across the floor as the distance increases. He can acutely feel the pair of eyes on the back of his head, trailing down, following the line of his spine, all the way down to his legs. Taeil bites on his lip and looks over his shoulder. Kun’s watching him, still standing at the same spot, and their eyes meet again, find each other like two ends of a magnet. Neither of them break gaze, until the doors close and shut them away.

The cafeteria is on the entirety of the 7th floor. Ten shows him the menus; “You have full-access here as well as discounts. We also provide free hourly snacks, so don’t be shy. I’m trying to keep my staff healthy.” While they have lunch, Sicheng finally texts him that they can meet in his apartment. Taeil thanks Ten for the day, promises to work hard, and tells him to give Kun his regards.

In the afternoon, he joins Sicheng in his apartment and wastes no time telling him about his morning, and the nice blond man with pretty lips who’ll be his manager work. Sicheng laughs at him a little. “So he’s hot?”

Biting on his finger, Taeil looks him up and nods once. Sicheng smiles and shakes his head. “You’re fucked.”

Taeil raises an eyebrow. “Hopefully.”

Sicheng buries his face in his hand and giggles, kicking him from the other end of the couch.

They play chess and eat, then in the evening the heat that’s been building up in Taeil’s body is demanding to be released, so he tells Sicheng he’s going home to do a stream. In a second, Sicheng’s usual spirit falters again, but he tries to keep it light, smiling for as long as he can. Taeil sees right through it, but doesn’t say anything.

The walk home is long. Taeil crosses each street and passes each person, thinking about the stream. As if any of these strangers could know what Taeil will do the minute he gets home. Maybe some of them watch his shows, maybe they can guess who he is. Maybe they’d watch him get off right in the middle of the intersection and see how good he is, how hot he is. Maybe Kun would find him there too.

He’s already hard before he gets inside his loft. Taeil kicks off his shoes and hurries to his bedroom. He turns on the webcam and starts an unscheduled stream. For once he doesn’t care if there’s less people watching, he just needs to get off, and he needs to be seen. He finds his distance from the webcam’s eye and pulls off his clothes. The chatroom fills in gradually but Taeil doesn’t read anything, he just needs that hot feeling in the deep of his gut as much as possible, and he needs everyone's eyes.

“Fuck, oh my god—” Taeil pushes his lubed fingers deeper in him and moans. He prods upwards until he finds the hard nub, and presses as far as he can. “Shit—fuck—”

The _pinging_ noises increase between Taeil’s breaths and low whines. He hasn’t been this aroused in a while, and he doesn’t even need to focus on the video or the chatroom to get himself going. It hasn’t felt this good since his first time streaming, so he starts talking: “Oh, fuck—I, I met this guy today—” Taeil jerks forward when he thrusts too hard, sending a hot rush through his stomach, and he spreads his thighs further. “He’s—he’s really hot. _Fuck_ —” The thought of Kun suddenly turns frustrating, Taeil doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. He brings his other hand to his mouth and slips two fingers on his tongue, thinking about Kun’s hands, his firm hold around him. Maybe Kun would grab his jaw with that same grip. Maybe he’d shove his fingers down Taeil’s throat. Maybe he’d fuck him—

“ _Ah—_ ” Taeil bites down on his fingers and comes onto his stomach, fast and hard. Saliva drips down his knuckles as he rides his orgasm out, legs shaking on the bed. He’s out of breath. The warm tingling is pleasant over his body, but he’s never felt more _hungry_ after coming. He’s not near satisfied at all, the sparking heat still creeping over him.

He wipes his fingers lazily on his sheets before typing on the stream. “Thanks for tonight, everyone. See you next time.” His eyes skim over the chatroom for a while. Taeil leans closer to the screen, chews on his lip while reading a few of the last comments, the flurry of _bye-byes_ and usual compliments, and he’s about to end the stream when he catches a reply in the middle of the words and numbers.

_moneysleepy: see you_

Taeil’s eyes follow the text that climbs up and disappears over the tab. He turns off the stream, logs off the site and closes his laptop. After he finishes cleaning up and dressing, Yangyang pads into the room, mewling softly. Taeil picks him up and walks in front of the closet mirror. He raises the small cat and kisses his head.

“It’s _you_ ,” he mumbles into his black fur. Yangyang paws the glass and touches noses with his reflection. Taeil stares at himself and smiles, unblinking. “Look how you’ve grown.”

 

—

 

Taeil thinks he knows the kind of man Kun is. Johnny’s told him about people like him: the rich and proud type of businessmen, comfortable in their money and work, overambitious and overconfident in their image, but who’ll need a pretty face to keep them company and assure them of their worth. Kun’s not conceited or arrogant at all, he’s rather quiet and very polite, but there is that unmistakable air of pretension on him that Taeil recognizes. It’s a front he’s found his way around all his life and, if he’s being sincere, taken on himself. Taeil’s not unfamiliar with vanity, or showing off.

Kun has a strict limit of patience, he learns quickly, and it’s amusing to see it tested. While he stays overly professional with the staff and clients, it’s only the few interns and Ten’s occasional quips that throw him off. And Taeil as well. _Taeil_ without a doubt distracts him and gets him worked up. He’s noticed the whole morning when Kun showed him his station and tasks. It wouldn’t be unexpected if he watched camshows, for the kind of man he appears to be. Taeil wonders if he recognizes him.

“These are the fitting rooms,” Kun says, showing him the two cubicles behind the register. There's a full-length mirror on the wall. “We might remodel them soon, though. Ten’s aiming for a makeover before next spring.”

“Am I going to be working in here with you?” Taeil asks, smiling.

“You’re mostly working on developing the garments, and around the shop. I do the fitting for the clients. But I’ll need your help.” Then Kun pauses, examining him steadily. “Here, I’ll give you your own tape.”

He takes Taeil to the storage boxes and picks out a rolled-up pink measuring tape. When he turns to give it to him, Taeil pushes his tongue in his cheek and lays his hand out. Kun places it in, slowly. Taeil takes the tape from his fingers, the fleeting touch sparking more excitement in his body, and he gives him his prettiest, sharpest smile. When Kun doesn’t move, Taeil unfurls the tape, then stretches it between them, holding one end against his chest and sliding his fingers down the other, across the space in front of them, until the tape touches Kun’s heart. 16.929 inches.

Kun doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at him intensely, and it completely fixes Taeil on the spot, makes him afraid to get closer but desperately want it at the same time. Sicheng is right. There’s a choice he has to make, but he doesn’t want to yet. Taeil’s caught a fish, and he needs to reel it in as smoothly as he can.

The first weeks are easy. Taeil enjoys his work, pressing garments, helping customers, cataloguing inventory, and most of all playing his game with Kun. There are a lot of mirrors inside the shop, and because Taeil’s well acquainted with using them, he’s sly with his maneuvers. He starts to notice the way Kun moves around him, prudently and with _purpose_. He circles him like prey and when Taeil hears him step close or sees him from a mirror, he finds his distance and throws him off. The trick is to see himself from his reflection instead of his body, and though Taeil doesn’t know when or how he picked that up, it’s become easy practice now. Easy play, to get Kun to watch him. And Taeil wants Kun to watch him.

Back and forth, like pulling on ends of a rope. Taeil eats chips for snacks and licks the salt off his fingers. He peels off his jacket when he finds the room too warm. He entertains the customers who flirt with him, and each time he feels the pair of eyes burning on his head, it’s like a dare for him to try harder. Sometimes he catches Kun’s eyes from a mirror, glimpses at his lips and strong jaw, and he smiles, and it’s not innocent. Taeil always looks away first, comforted by the thought that Kun will keep watching him, and he knows he does. Kun’s eyes linger on him more than often, and Taeil consistently pretends he isn’t aware. It’s thrilling, each time he feels Kun look at him from a corner of the shop, and each time Taeil stands a little straighter, touches his face or neck, licks his lips and bites them, just moves for no other purpose than keeping Kun’s eyes on him, locking him under a spell. But the rope’s either got to give in to one or tear, and even if Taeil knows he has to choose, he can only delay it for so long.

One afternoon while he’s cashing out the register, Kun comes out of the back-room with the new shipments and starts sorting them on the displays. Taeil feels him stare again after a few minutes, and he bites down the smirk on his lips. His eyes fall on the shop’s keys on the counter. Taeil brings the back of his hand down and sweeps them off the edge. He takes his time bending down and picking them up, and as he stands back up, he looks over his shoulder to see Kun’s eyes raise from his thighs to his face. This time, he looks away first, and Taeil watches him hook the next hanger slightly harsher on the rail.

Taeil turns back to the register, but not even a minute after he hears Kun walk toward him, and his heartbeat spikes. He turns around just as Kun stops in front of him, an arm’s length away, and looks at him with a hard expression over his face.

“You can finish up. I want to show you the measuring positions,” he says, and immediately leaves to the fitting room. Taeil closes the register, takes the keys and follows him straight away.

Kun makes him try on a mannequin first, then he sits down on the chair in front of the mirror and gestures to practice on him. Taeil starts with his sleeves first, making sure to look anywhere but in the mirror. He goes careful and slow, counting every inch and pinching the tape down. When he goes to measure the shoulder width, he raises the tape over Kun’s head and flattens it across his collarbone. Taeil leans down on the left side of his head to see the tape. Their cheeks touch, then Taeil finally raises his eyes and looks in the mirror.  

They stare at each other. It’s tempting for him to just lock his arms around Kun’s neck, but this is the closest he’ll allow for the moment. It’s close enough to feel him breathe and move his jaw, and Taeil’s heart knocks against his ribcage, his stomach knotting up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Taeil mutters into his ear, “could I have my own keys? It’s kind of difficult going back and forth the rooms to get yours.”

He swiftly removes himself and gives him back the keys. Kun takes them and stands up, turning to face him. 16.929 inches. He looks a bit nervous.

“I have a master key for spare, you can have it,” he says, a dark look in his eyes. “It’s at my place, though.”

Taeil’s answer dies down his throat, and he bites on his tongue. The tension in the room rises in a second. He eyes Kun as hard as he can and gives a small smile. “Can I have it now?”

Kun looks at him for a long, tense moment, then nods silently. Taeil lets out a strained breath. He quickly steps out of the room and paces around the shop, closing up. His head is running wild and there’s the same heat thrumming under his skin. Kun keeps his eye on him, and for a while it feels like Taeil’s being tied back by it, whichever direction he goes, whatever move he decides to make.

They clock out at 5. Kun drives them downtown in his expensive car, the ride short and quiet. He lives inside a big condo building, a few miles away from the mall. Taeil’s phone buzzes just as they reach his apartment on the 28th floor. It’s Sicheng, asking if he wants to meet for dinner. Taeil quickly types his reply as he steps inside the apartment: _might get kicked for an hour don’t wait up._

“You don’t have to take off your shoes,” Kun tells him as he closes the door. Taeil takes in the size and elegance of the place. It’s classier than he expected, and he’s never seen bigger windows in an apartment. There’s so much space, even with the clutters of boxes around. Kun goes to the kitchen. “You want a drink?”

Taeil walks to the windows, admiring the roomy layout, and answers distractedly: “Something hot?”

He hears Kun hum. “Those boxes are orders from exclusives brands. It’s easier for me to ship them here and record them afterwards.” Taeil steps into the open space occupied by the living room set. He slips between the loveseats and notices, on the coffee table in the middle, a chess set. Kun comes behind him and hands him a glass of tea.

“You play?” Taeil asks, taking a sip.

“When I have the time,” Kun answers, a hint of fatigue in his tone.

Taeil lowers the glass and looks at him fixedly. His phone buzzes again, and again, and he gradually lets the resonance get to his head. That bold, greedy feeling takes over him, and in a second he’s set his next course of actions, ready to raise the stakes of their game.

“No time?” Taeil says, inching closer. Kun immediately tenses up, and Taeil grins. “You’re a busy man. Always working hard. You should take a break sometimes. Relax.”

Kun doesn’t move, but the look in his eyes changes. It turns _haughty_ , nothing but a shift in his expression, but somehow it gets Taeil incredibly turned on, sending a light shiver up his neck.

“And how do you propose I do that?” Kun taunts.

Taeil takes a deep breath, swallows, then raises his hand to Kun’s collar, but doesn’t touch it. Instead he lets his fingers hover, and slowly takes a step back. “Play with me, of course,” he crows.

Taeil turns around and goes to sit on the sofa facing the windows. Kun, after a brief moment of consideration, walks around to the loveseat on the opposite side and sits down. Taeil places his glass on the table and leans back, stretching lazily. Kun’s eyes roam down his chest, and raise back when Taeil chuckles.

“Let’s make a bet,” he recites, holding his gaze. “Winner… gets to do whatever they want with the other.”

And the rope drops from Kun’s side. Taeil bites his lip when he sees him freeze, all at once. _Gotcha_. Kun stares at him with masked disbelief, and _caution_ , then the look in his eyes turns heated, fierce, and Taeil instinctively crosses his legs. Without a word, Kun centers the set on the table, and Taeil makes the first move.

Kun plays in an odd, forceful way. Taeil can only compare it to handling livestock. He finds every possible way to corner him, trap him, and make him move where he needs him to. It’s overwhelming and provoking at the same time. Taeil goes all out as usual, borrowing Sicheng’s favourite strategies, and he’s thrilled when he manages to capture Kun’s queen. Taeil picks the black piece from the board and lures Kun’s eyes up as he brings the tip to his lower lip. He prods it with his tongue, twists it between his teeth, sucking around it purposely, and watches Kun focus from his mouth back to the set. He’s even attractive when he frowns, concentrating, hesitating, his patience starting to run out.

But then suddenly Taeil finds himself in a perfectly executed trap, his king completely surrounded from all sides. He panics for a second, eyes darting around the board to find a square where he can flee, but Kun moves his rook right in that space, and Taeil’s train of thought comes to an abrupt stop.

“Checkmate,” Kun says, voice low. “I win.”

The piece hangs loosely from Taeil’s mouth. A hard weight drops in his gut when he senses the brisk change in the atmosphere, then all the stress in his body leaves place to anticipation, as well as a bloodrush stirring him up. In front of him, Kun stands up, and the instant he does Taeil springs from his seat, knees almost knocking the table. He goes to remove the piece between his lips when Kun’s stern voice interrupts him:

“Did I say you could stand?”

Taeil’s breath sutters. He stares straight ahead at the windows, swallows thickly, and gently sits back down on the sofa. His hands place on each side of his thighs. Kun starts walking toward him. 7.2 feet, 6, 5, 4... Taeil listens to the heels of his oxfords step on the floor. When he stops in front of him at the table’s side, Taeil glimpses at his legs in the corner of his eye, and his throat goes dry.

“Did I say you could sit?”

A heat-wave washes over him, and Taeil's head becomes so hot, it feels like he has a fever. Without moving his eyes, he drags himself forward, slowly slipping from the couch to the floor. When his knees settle in front of Kun’s shoes, the saliva gathered under his lip drips down the piece still held between his teeth, and he finally makes himself look up. Kun’s watching him calmly, not the slightest struggle on his face, but the look in his eyes is dark and heavy, _overpowering_. Taeil stares at the strong line of his jaw and the curve of his throat. He has his left hand in his pant pocket and the other resting against his thigh. Taeil’s mouth is right at his crotch-level, the chess piece held up in the space between. The whole sight makes him want to sink himself further down.

Kun’s right hand moves to cradle his jaw. The touch is tender, soft. “You say stop and I stop,” he instructs. “Understood?”

Taeil gives a slack nod. Kun’s palm cups his chin, lifting it lightly, and Taeil opens his mouth, releasing the piece into his hand. Kun takes it away and slides it in the chest pocket of his blouse. Taeil wets his lip, breathing out shakily. Locking their eyes, he slips his hands behind his back, crossing his wrists, and raises himself an inch.

The effect is immediate—Kun’s lips twitch, a curse on his tongue. He moves his hand back to Taeil’s face, fingers trailing up his cheek and temple, then he cards them through his hair. He strokes his hair slowly, firmly, the way Taeil would pet Yangyang’s head. It’s as comforting as it is arousing. He closes his eyes when Kun’s thumb brushes over them, rubbing gently. “Good boy.”

Taeil keens, shuddering, and forces his arms further behind his back. Kun drags it on, long and teasing, and with each caress Taeil gets increasingly harder, more restless, his aching knees digging into the floor as he tries not to move. But then Kun’s fingers catch a knot in his hair, pulling it quickly, and Taeil drops his jaw at once, moaning out loud. The hand in his hair stops, then tightens into a fist, tugging harshly. Taeil’s breath hitches, he gasps and automatically spreads his legs.

“Fucking hell,” he hears Kun whisper. “Yeah, I know what you want.”

He takes his hand off and starts undoing his belt. Taeil whines low in his throat, trying to cling onto the lingering burn in his scalp, and listening to the metal unbuckling in front of him. His arms are trembling and there’s an angsty feeling coursing through his body, but it’s completely overcome by the heat of the moment. Nothing’s ever felt hotter. The second Kun takes himself out, Taeil pushes his knees forward and wraps his lips around the head. Kun’s hand finds his hair again, gripping it hard, and he all but yanks Taeil down, cock sliding wetly into his mouth.

“Fuck—” Kun breathes out, “oh my god.” Taeil takes him in perfectly, loosening his throat and moaning as loud as he can, and he concludes on the spot that Kun is the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. They fit like lock and key, full and complete. The stretch of his lips is just enough to burn and bring tears to his eyes. Kun fucks his mouth steadily, careful not to thrust too deep, though the more Taeil sucks and moans, the more he seems to have trouble controlling himself. It gets rough and messy rather fast, but Taeil wants it _harder_ and _filthier_.

He’s vaguely aware that they’re not far from the windows, and that distant thought is what sets fire to the last nerve in his body. When Taeil gazes up at him through his lashes, knowing just what he looks like, eyes wet, mouth red and dripping, shaking on his knees with his hands behind his back, Kun suddenly stops, taking the time to stare. It gets Taeil impossibly more worked up, and he desperately tries to spread his thighs down more. But then Kun drags his head back and he slips out of Taeil’s lips with an obscene _pop_. Taeil whines immediately, dipping his head as much as possible to feel the sting in his hair and fill his mouth again.

“Get on your back,” Kun orders.

Taeil swallows a moan and obeys. His shoulders and elbows hit the floor painfully, and the base of his spine crushes his crossed wrists, but he can’t be bothered to care. Not when Kun kneels down and starts taking off his pants. Taeil’s momentarily distracted by the hot touch of his fingers on his waist, and so he sits up and moves his hands to help him. There’s a beat of silence, Kun halting and staring him down, before Taeil realizes his mistake and stops.

“Did I say you could move?” He tugs Taeil’s pants down his thighs, and Taeil glues his palms on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps.

“No, I don’t think you are.” Kun strips him down quick. “You think I don’t notice your little schemes at work? Fooling with clients and showing off like that. And eating. Fuck—you don’t ever stop eating. Always need something in your mouth.”

He picks the chess piece from his pocket, leans down and pushes it through Taeil’s lips. The tip hits the back of his tongue and Taeil gasps in surprise. Kun lets out a pleased sigh when his legs are bare, and he runs his hands down, groping his knees and calves. He catches Taeil’s eye again and growls: “Fuck. Yeah, it’s you.” There’s some bubbling laughter Taeil withholds, and instead he sucks on the piece and arches up. Kun immediately pinches his thigh, drawing out a whimper. “What is it? What do you want?”

“ _You_ ,” Taeil moans around the piece, “just you, please, please.”

Kun’s pretty lips quirk up. “Yeah? Please what?”

“Touch me,” Taeil whines, shaking. “ _Fuck me._ ”

“You want me to fuck you?” Kun drags himself closer until his knees bump against Taeil’s. He starts jerking himself off, pressing his cock between Taeil’s thighs. “Beg.”

There’s nothing but authority in his tone and Taeil can’t challenge it; “ _Please_ , please fuck me, _please—_ ”

“I don’t think you deserve it,” Kun bites out, and Taeil practically wails. His fingers scratch the floor in frustration and he grits through his teeth, bucking his hips up as Kun keeps fucking into his fist. He eyes his lap lecherously. “Fuck, I always wanted to do this.”

Taeil locks his knees and lets out a strangled whine. He runs his mouth, begging, mixing Kun’s name with choked-off pleas, and struggling to keep still. It’s too fast and _unfair_ —Kun’s barely doing anything and Taeil’s losing his mind, already about to give out. “Kun, please, please.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes—”

“You want it? You’ve been good?”

“Yes—” Taeil cries out, “yes, sir—”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kun hisses and moans breathlessly, lurching forward, and after three and a half pumps he comes on Taeil’s thighs with a harsh gasp. It’s hotter than anything Taeil’s ever seen, and he squeezes his legs together as he feels the warmth dribble between, sticking to his skin. Kun shakes a bit, catching his breath, and when his eyes focus back on Taeil, the steely facade over his face falters, and for a moment he looks worried— _afraid_. Taeil allows him three seconds before he spreads his legs and hooks his ankles over his neck, pulling him down.

Kun almost loses his balance when Taeil locks his head between his thighs. The rush gets him daring, so he slips one hand into Kun’s hair, grabbing it messily, and drags him down. Kun takes his cock and swallows him clumsily, his cheeks rubbing against the come trickling down Taeil’s thighs, and it’s so impossibly hot to watch that Taeil has to bring his other hand to the chess piece in his mouth and bite on them to restrain himself. Then Kun raises his head and Taeil lets up, his stomach doing a flip when he sees him spit on his fingers and move them under his ass.

“ _Ah!_ ” Taeil throws his head back and shuts his eyes, his entire body jerking up. Kun puts his mouth back on him and wastes no time finding his prostate. It’s too much all at once, and it only takes a couple of hard, calculated thrusts before Taeil _yells_ and comes into Kun’s mouth, his fist in his hair tugging repeatedly. All the breath is punched out of him. His waist aches, his lips are numb, and his blood is burning up, every part of his body slowly disassembles and melts, and he feels _unravelled_.

Kun pulls off, slips away from Taeil’s legs and sits back down. His face is a mess, lips swollen red, come staining his cheeks and blonde hair completely disheveled. But it’s the way he looks at Taeil in the moment that does it. A gaze locked in stone, immovable, riveted, _possessed_. It’s engrossed and all-consuming. Kun watches him with such an intent and absorbed stare that everything else seems to just disintegrate under the sheer force of it. It makes Taeil feel _opened_ , unwrapped, broken apart and utterly _exposed_ , and he falls for it instantly. He wants this look on him always. He wants it to own him.

Their heavy breaths gradually leave to a tense silence. Kun crawls toward him and carefully plucks the chess piece from his mouth. Taeil stays still, observing him as he sets it back on the board. Then Kun tucks himself back in his pants and gets up, retreating to the washroom. Taeil watches him walk away, evaluating the distance that increases, and decreases when he comes back with a towel. He cleans Taeil’s legs, his movements firm and precise, orderly like he is at work. It’s funny, a bit endearing as well.

He lets Taeil dress and helps him up. Then he goes to the bedroom, and Taeil waits at the apartment’s entrance until he comes back, a small black key between his fingers. Taeil lays his hand out; Kun places it in. Then Taeil’s eyes trace the fading come that’s still on his face, and he closes the space between them, leaning forward to drag his tongue up the smear on his cheek. He feels Kun stiffen, and draws back to see the intense expression steeled against him. It’s hot, intoxicating, _perfect_ , and still Taeil can’t get enough of it. Still he wants more. A drug to his eyes.

He waves the key and smiles half-way. “See you tomorrow.”

Kun keeps still, and he answers in a quiet voice: “See you.”

Taeil waits a few seconds, making the gaze last, then he walks out of the apartment. Each step down the hall becomes more heavy, and even if Taeil can feel Kun’s eyes on him when he goes to the stairwell instead of the elevator, it’s suddenly not as exciting anymore. Instead Taeil feels _upset_ , because he’s leaving, he’s walking away, and Kun won’t see him after he crosses the flight.

The door closes behind him. Taeil goes all the way down to the lobby, and when he steps outside, it’s like the world floods back in front of him. He feels the wind, hears the cars and chatter, the city buzz surrounding him but not fully, not entirely. There’s an invisible, impenetrable perimeter around him, an area that feels like it’s just been recalibrated. Something’s been released. Taeil takes out his phone and calls Sicheng, marching out into the world.  
  
  


—

 

Kun’s not exactly the kind of man Taeil thought he was. He’s more soft-hearted than he looks, and there’s something just friendly about him. It mostly shows when he’s around Ten or meets with clients, and Taeil admits he’s charmed. He hasn’t met someone he liked so much since Sicheng, and he likes Kun plenty. He likes him enough.

The morning after, Kun asks him to help measure the length of the fitting rooms for the renovations. He gives him the end of his tape and Taeil retreats to the other side of the two cubicles. There are a few boxes on the ground, so Taeil decides to move them, and holds the tape with his teeth. Kun walks back while he’s arranging the boxes on the floor, and Taeil turns around to see him stop in front of him, not looking pleased.

Taeil holds his gaze as he stands up, keeping the tape between his teeth. When Kun makes to pull, Taeil starts to eat it, drawing the strip into his mouth. The numbers of the inches disappear behind his lips—Kun focuses on them as Taeil closes the distance, and he drops the tape right before he kisses him. Kun’s lips are thick and soft like plush, just as Taeil’s imagined them, and he cups his face as he presses closer. Kun pulls away first, looking at him strangely, almost in surprise, and he’s blushing a little. Taeil removes his hands and gives him a soft smile.

They keep playing. It’s a game that expects an ending, but Taeil will stall it for as long as he can. He isn’t even sure what he’s trying to prevent, just knows that he doesn’t want it to end yet. He wants Kun to keep playing with him, and he _wants him_. He wants his eyes, his mouth, his hands, everything he can give him, and more. Taeil wants more.

They work, staying professional, but now Taeil’s more fearless, more aware of his play. Kun’s made it clear that he has zero tolerance for anything inappropriate at the shop, but against all reason Taeil receives that as a dare. He keeps eating his snacks, keeps being oblivious to customers’ advances, keeps moving and brushing against Kun when he gets the chance, and even if Kun doesn’t react to any of it, he still _looks_ , and Taeil wants to charge that until he reaches the breaking point.

He tests Kun’s patience, pushes his buttons, riles him up. At the end of days when Taeil knows he’s driving him up the wall, Kun takes them back to his condo, telling him he needs his help sorting out shipments, and each time after they finish working or play chess, Taeil finds his 16.929 inches from him and drops to his knees. Kun clearly has a preference for outercourse, and though Taeil’s still waiting to get fucked, he can’t deny that he loves it. He thinks Kun must like having someone at his feet, ready and eager to serve him at any moment. And Taeil won’t lie—he likes it just as much. He likes it when Kun’s rough with him and tells him what to do, and then he likes turning the tables and make him lose all control. Taeil _always_ makes him lose control.

It’s obvious on the days after he does streams. Taeil’s started to get more creative and talkative during his shows, now that he knows Kun’s watching him there as well. What he can’t attempt at work he does at home, going out of his way to show Kun how good he is, how hot he is, and how much he wants him. “Don’t you want me too?” In the whole sea of hungry eyes Taeil knows there’s one pair he caters to, one pair that can completely immobilize him with one look. The mornings after those streams Kun looks at him like he wants to eat him. And Taeil will leave those days smiling sweetly like every other day, with the same “see you tomorrow” and warmth in his body when Kun answers “see you” back.

Somedays he takes him out to eat, treating him to expensive meals when a project goes well, or just because he feels like it. Kun’s quite the gentleman, with all the proper manners and talk, and he always takes care of Taeil after he wrecks his mouth or makes a mess of his face. Taeil’s favourite place to blow him is in front of his apartment’s wide windows, and Kun picks up on it quickly. Sometimes he makes Taeil get off on his own in front of them, other times he sits him down beside his desk, slips a cockring on him and makes him stay still until he finishes his work, and if Taeil comes before then, Kun just prolongs it the next time. There’s always a next time. And it’s worth that deep and riveted look in his eyes, the one Taeil wants on him at all times.

One evening in December, Kun takes him to a restaurant, and Taeil’s not feeling well after a whole day working inside the fitting rooms and using his key. There’s some queasiness in his chest with the burning itch under his skin, and he wants it _out_. Before he leaves his loft, Taeil finds the black plug and small remote in his toy box. He answers Kun’s texts while fitting the vibrator up his ass, then pockets the remote when he finishes dressing up.

Kun’s waiting for him at the reserved table when he gets to the restaurant. He’s in an expensive business attire, silver blouse with a dark tie, and the suit jacket hanging on the chair. The first thing Taeil does is take out the remote and place it in his plate. Kun immediately takes it, eyeing Taeil questioningly as he sits down and trembles when it pushes the plug deeper. Kun tentatively presses the first button, and Taeil jolts, sinking his teeth down his lip. He breathes out noisily, meeting Kun’s heated look, then the waiter comes over and he hides the remote under the table and orders the food.

It’s fun at first. Kun’s reluctant until Taeil teases him under the table, rubbing his foot up his ankle. They make comfortable conversation, and when Taeil’s in the middle of talking he’ll suddenly feel the vibrations inside him, cutting off the rest of his sentence. Then when they’re eating and he brings the fork to his mouth, Kun presses again, and Taeil drops his food, jerking forward and gripping the edge of the table. He lets a few quiet moans slip out, biting on his lip when he catches Kun’s faint glare.

But it’s when Taeil starts eyeing the waiters and guests around them, seeing if they notice, that Kun stops playing. Taeil thinks he’s teasing at first, but Kun pockets the remote and keeps his hands on the table for the rest of the meal. Frustrated, Taeil squirms in his seat, chews on his lip and fingers, but Kun still doesn't react. He doesn’t look too pleased all of a sudden. Taeil doesn’t understand what’s wrong.

“I’m hungry,” he mutters.

Kun looks at him fixedly. “I know.”

They skip the last course and get dessert back at his apartment. Kun heats up a pastry he made yesterday and sits in front of him after he sets their plates down. The first bite sends Taeil _reeling_ —he lets out a loud moan and his eyes flutter closed. He’s never tasted something so sweet.

“You really never stop eating,” Kun says through his mouthful, eyeing him up. “It’s cute.”

Taeil looks back at him and smiles. “Ten says he wants us to be healthy.”

“That man doesn’t even eat fruits,” he grouses.

But Kun keeps himself busy eating, ignoring Taeil’s stares again. It’s been tense since they left the restaurant, and suddenly he can’t take it anymore. The pressure that’s been building up all day has reached its peak, and Taeil might just break before it overflows.

He sets his plate aside and leans forward, speaking clearly: “And he still looks so young.”

The utensil halts in mid-air, right below Kun’s mouth. Taeil smirks. The pause lasts briefly. He stands up from the table and strides to his side.

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much,” Taeil goes on, sitting on the table’s edge. The plug presses further, nudging firmly, and he wets his lips. “Mm… Are you upset those kids won’t listen to you? That they won’t look up to you? Hm?”

Kun watches him and doesn’t move. Taeil inches his hand toward his tie, grabbing the middle. “Classy men like you.” He looks Kun in the eyes and _tugs_. “Nasty men like you.”

Kun slaps his cutlery down and grips his wrist. Everything flares up fire-hot in a second, and Taeil’s blood rushes to his head. Kun stands up and Taeil steps down, staggering back when a hand comes to grab his jaw.

“What is it with you today, huh?” Kun grits out, herding him backward. “You show off in front of our clients. You play whore in front of everyone. You want them to look at you? You want them to fuck you? Or you want them to watch me fuck you, is that it? You think you can just do whatever you want?”

Taeil’s back touches the kitchen counter. Something sets off in his head, but it’s driven out when he feels the plug vibrate again, making him cry out. Kun’s other hand is in his pocket, pressing on-and-off the remote. He tightens his hold on Taeil’s jaw and pushes his thumb up his lip. “What? What do you want? You want to get told off? You want to get punished, is that it? You want a lashing?”

Taeil shudders so hard his knees wobble, and he bites on Kun’s finger when it hooks down on his tongue. Kun presses his body against him, closing all the space between them. He leers and purrs against his lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you. You’d like it if I take off my belt and hit your ass until you cry.”

Taeil’s breath leaves his lungs. Kun doesn’t give him a second to recover, taking out the remote and pressing without interruption. It throbs right on the spot, and Taeil sobs around his finger and grinds against him, head spinning like crazy. His hands scramble from the counter’s edge to Kun’s shoulders, clawing when he doesn’t move an inch. They’re too close and not enough at the same time.

“But I won’t do that,” he spits, and it’s as good as a slap across the face. “Get on your knees.”

Taeil drops to the floor like dead weight. A chill shoots up his body when his knees hit the floor, but then Kun stops pressing and stays still. He stares down at him with that hot look of his, and Taeil is one second away from breaking down.

“Look at you,” Kun coos, curling his lip. “I don’t need to lay a finger on you.”

“No—please. Please touch me,” he begs, breathless. “I’ll be good. Please.”

Kun’s hand grips his hair. “You’ll be good? You’re going to behave?”

“Yes—”

He tugs. “Yes _what?_ ”

Taeil whines. “Yes, sir.”

Kun sticks the remote between his teeth and undoes his belt. The pressure in Taeil’s chest and head is ready to explode. He needs the release now. He needs to be put down and be broken apart, until it runs out. He needs to _hurt_ until it empties. On his skin and in his blood, inside-out. Taeil needs Kun to fuck him up.

“You have all-access to the cafeteria, you get snacks on the hour, I take you to restaurants and cook you meals,” he snarls, yanking Taeil down, “but even after that all you want in your mouth is cock.”

Taeil parts his lips and Kun shoves all the way in, and for the first few thrusts he just lets it take over him. The familiar weight and taste sets him off at once; Kun’s dick in his mouth is like a key unlocking Taeil’s head. All his thoughts flow out, evacuate one by one, and the tension in his body drains. Taeil’s body responds to it like medicine.

This time Kun fucks his mouth in the proper sense, fucks it without holding back, hard and fast, rough, messy, without relenting. Without _control_. Taeil chokes on it, moaning and crying his throat out, tears and spit all over his face. Kun’s hand twists his hair and his other holding the remote grips the kitchen counter. He’s loud this time as well, gasping and talking non-stop. Kun always stays courteous and reserved on the surface, but he talks like a madman during sex.

Taeil moans when he slides out, circling the head against his swollen lips. Then Kun holds his finger down on the button and Taeil screams. He pushes his cock back down his throat, strangling the cry, and comes about five thrusts after with a broken moan. It’s hot enough to hurt, and Taeil’s entire body sets on fire, throat and gut burning painfully, the heat under his skin blowing up. Breathing heavily, Kun pulls away before he can swallow everything, drawing the trail of come out of his mouth, then he abruptly sinks to his knees and crushes their lips together.

Taeil opens his mouth and pushes his tongue out, and his hips stutter when Kun shoves his hands down his pants. It’s too hot, too wet, and Taeil parts his thighs, grinding down on the plug that keeps vibrating and rubbing on the spot, the burning feeling close to numbing him whole. It takes less than a dozen strokes before he comes, Kun pinning his waist and kissing him hard to swallow his cry. Taeil shakes up, spasming against him, his voice crumbling apart with the rest of his body. It’s almost _destructive_ , like a tower collapsing, one block at time. When the heat finally subsides, he’s desperately trying to catch his breath, and Kun holds him steady, his hand stroking his face gently.

“You OK?” he asks.

Taeil nods, unable to speak. Kun helps clean him up, moves him so he can take out the plug, then fetches a glass of water. They stay on the kitchen floor, passing the drink, then Taeil rests his head on Kun’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He feels properly wrecked, broken apart, almost wasted in some way. It washes out of him, but there’s something else that’s taken its place. Something else that’s stirring, in the pit of his chest.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” Kun asks again, shoulder stiff. “I thought you looked a bit sick today, at work.”

“I’m all right,” Taeil replies, looking at him with a smile. “Thank you.”

Kun nods, then his expression turns sheepish. It makes Taeil want to laugh, but he doesn’t have the energy. Kun averts his eyes, scratches the back of his neck and mutters: “Do—um. Do you want to stay the night?”

Taeil looks at him in surprise. Right then, he hears his phone buzz in the room, and hastily replies: “Ah—I have to go see my friend, actually. Sorry. Maybe next time.” Kun nods quickly, face blank. They get up and Taeil goes to put on his coat and boots. He takes out his phone and reads the message from Sicheng on his screen.

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“It’s fine, thank you,” Taeil answers. He pockets his phone and turns around to kiss Kun before he leaves. It seems to catch him off-guard. Taeil smiles and kisses him again, softer this time. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Kun says.

They stare at each other for a few more seconds, then Taeil steps out of the apartment. Kun’s still watching him as he leaves, and Taeil’s heart suddenly aches. He forces himself to walk faster to the stairs, and for the first time in his life, the feeling of the pair of eyes behind his head makes him shy.

 

—

 

On Christmas morning, Taeil goes to Sicheng’s apartment to have breakfast and exchange presents. He gifts him expensive apparel from the shop and Sicheng gets him a whole bag of imported cosmetics, along with his favourite lotion. Taeil talks to him happily about work and his projects, and the holiday party the company’s going to host for the New Year’s. Sicheng listens attentively but he doesn’t answer much. He hardly looks at Taeil at all. It’s uncomfortable. These last weeks have been awkward between them, and he decides that he’s had enough.

“Is something wrong?” Taeil finally asks, worried. He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to him on the other side of the couch. “Sicheng, you… You’ve been acting different, lately.”

Sicheng glances at him and gives a weak smile. “You’ve noticed.”

“I have,” Taeil says. Sicheng lowers his eyes and plays with his nails. Taeil waits patiently, inching closer, until their arms touch and there’s no more space between them. Sicheng looks at him with a different expression, one he’s never seen before.

“I’m going to stop camming.”

The first thing Taeil feels is confusion, and he blurts out: “Why?”

He doesn’t immediately answer, sighing and gazing around them tiredly. “Taeil, I’m in a serious relationship. It’s—it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and... I…” He trails off, expression becoming anxious, and _afraid_. Taeil’s heart drops to his stomach, and everything suddenly hurts.

“You—” Taeil’s thoughts stop before taking an angry turn. “Is he making you do this?”

“No, it’s not him,” Sicheng says, “it’s me.”

Taeil frowns. “What?”

“It’s _me_ ,” he repeats, eyeing him intently. Harshly. “Look, he wants to move in with me. And I want to be with him. I want commitment. I want to make this work, so I can’t—I don’t want to cam anymore. I’m not comfortable with it anymore.”

Pause. The words don’t seem to be aligning inside Taeil’s head. He’s sure he understands what Sicheng’s saying, but not what he means. He tries to, he really does, but there’s a part of him that resists. Some part of him that, Taeil feels, is scared of something.

“OK,” he replies. “OK.”

“I’ve just been through a lot these last few months,” Sicheng mumbles. “Sorry, OK? I didn’t mean to be closed off or anything. I just needed time to think. And I don’t mean to, like, abandon you in the whole camming thing.”

“Of course not, don’t apologize... I’m not… I mean, you’re the biggest cammer I know,” he says, trying to change the subject, “they’re going to miss you.”

“I’m doing this for _me._ ”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he sighs. “It’s OK, really. I’ve already told some of our friends, it’s all fine. There’s plenty of big cammers anyway.”

Taeil raises an eyebrow. “Like who?”

Sicheng shrugs. “I don’t know. Johnny. Cherry.”

“Who’s Cherry?”

“You don’t know Cherry? _Cherryty_.” When Taeil doesn’t react, Sicheng just waves him off. “He’s the most notorious cammer on this site. He lives in the city too, so we keep in touch.”

Taeil’s never heard that name. He doesn’t think he’s seen it around on the site either, but it piques his interest. How popular was Cherry? Did he have more followers than Sicheng? Does he know the other cammers? Taeil thinks about their scores and the video feed on his laptop. Does Cherry watch his shows?

“I really love him,” Sicheng suddenly says, drawing him back. “I want us to be happy.”

And at that Taeil loses those thoughts, giving them up for the wistful feeling that fills him. It’s the most in a moment he’s ever felt for Sicheng. He looks at him and hears his heart slow down. “I want you to be happy too.”

Sicheng smiles, the most beautiful and sincere thing Taeil’s ever seen, and he takes his hand, holding it tight. They lean on each other and talk for the rest of the morning. Sicheng asks him how’s it’s going with Kun, and Taeil answers that it’s good. Just good. Around noon Sicheng falls asleep and Taeil settles him on the couch, covering him with a blanket and leaving his gifts on the table. Before Taeil leaves, he looks at him one last time, and places the apartment’s key down as well.

He goes back to his loft and plays with Yangyang until dinner. In the evening, Taeil takes his laptop and goes on the cam site. He finds Cherry’s profile easily, and his heart stops when he sees the number _359 079_ in the followers’ bar. Taeil’s head turns upside-down. There’s some shock and awe, but mostly envy, as he scrolls down his page. He’s never seen a more perfect presentation. So many numbers everywhere. All of them were watching Cherry?

Yangyang crawls on the bed and nuzzles his hip. Taeil pets him distractedly, still focused on the profile. After a while when the angry emotion in his chest increases, _aggravates_ , Cherry suddenly starts a stream. Taeil immediately logs on and joins. There’s a person sitting on the bed, their head cut off from the frame, but Taeil’s eyes are fixed on the chatroom, and the number of views that shoots up. He’s never seen it change so fast. So many people watching him, so much attention, so many eyes.

Taeil feels his entire body brace, burn up with greed. How was Cherry so popular? How did he get all these people to watch him? He’s inching closer to the screen when he suddenly hears a sharp mewl, and looks down to see his fingers wrapped tightly under the back of Yangyang’s head, crushing his neck. He immediately throws his hand off, then picks him up and cuddles him against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

Yangyang wiggles, his tail swishing back and forth, brushing the laptop’s screen. Taeil watches Cherry move, listens to him talk, feeling his heart race when he touches his throat. The views and tips keep flooding in. When he starts to undress, Taeil’s mind closes up, his head locking itself, and he moves his finger on the touchpad, clicking on the private messaging request under his name.

 

—

 

Ten makes the New Year’s at the company a costume party, as well as a celebration for Kun’s birthday. In the evening after his shift, Taeil picks up a package from the lingerie shop and goes home to dress up. He fits the black set under a silk blouse, loose blazer and leopard tie, topping it all off with a chic sailor hat. The glitter gloss Sicheng’s gifted him is what makes the look pop, and he takes his time applying it, outlining his lips carefully, calculatedly, doing his most to make sure he’ll get eyes on him tonight. He answers Kun’s texts and sends him a nice picture, teasing his promise for their night.

On the mall’s center floor, they eat, drink, and dance. Taeil mingles with everyone, attracting eyes and showing off, then he entertains the interns and sings karaoke with Ten, but he always finds his way back to Kun, in his pilot outfit, as the night advances. Kun looks at him with patience, only because he knows how Taeil will end their night. When the clock strikes 12, Taeil kisses him in front of everyone, drawing out a round of cheers and whistles. They celebrate together for another hour before they can’t take their eyes off each other anymore, and Ten sends them off, wishing them goodnight. “Happy New Year, lovebirds.”

Taeil takes him back to his loft. They’re tipsy when they stumble into his bedroom, laughing over silly jokes and kissing messily. Taeil makes him sit on the edge of the bed and pats his pilot hat down. Kun raises it back and smiles, eyeing him up. Taeil fills a rocks glass with champagne and places it in his hand. “Wait here,” he whispers against his lips.

He steps out into the bathroom and strips down to the set, then puts the blazer and hat back on. In the mirror, he’s never looked more lovely. He applies a fresh coat of gloss and looks at himself one last time before coming back out. On the bed, Kun’s taken off his jacket, and when he sees Taeil, he chokes on his drink and almost drops the glass, and in the moment Taeil is certain that this what he lives for, the _eye_ , the exposure. Kun will look at nothing else but him. Drunk on the thought, he bites on his lip and smiles playfully. “Ahoy, captain.”

They immediately burst into laughter, Kun chucking the empty glass on the nightstand and beckoning him closer. Taeil walks to him slowly. 15 feet, 10, 5. He grins and holds his head high. “My ship sank. Can I ride on your plane tonight?”

“You can ride it all night long,” Kun answers huskily, hands slithering up Taeil’s waist when he stops in front of him. 16.929. His fingers hook inside the ribbons of the corset belt. Taeil swats his hat back down his eyes and pushes his hands off.

“No touching,” he says, biting his lip when Kun takes off his hat and looks at him hungrily. Holding his gaze, Taeil runs his hands down his chest and hips, smoothing over the straps and lace. Then he shoulders off the blazer, letting it wrap around his arms, and sinks to his knees. Kun lets out a heavy breath, settling his hands on his sides, and watches him pull down his zipper with his teeth.

“You’re fucking hot,” he rasps.

Taeil looks at him through his eyelashes and licks his lips. “I know.”

Kun’s laughter turns to a strangled moan when Taeil takes him in his mouth. The gloss smudges against the skin, glitter dragging up the head. He flattens his tongue and swallows him whole, and Kun wastes no time with his thrusts. His hands grip the sheets on the bed and he lets out shaky breaths, gasping when Taeil starts to hum. It’s what makes him slip up. He removes a hand and cards them through Taeil's hair, knocking off the hat. Immediately Taeil pulls off and grabs his hand.

“I said no touching,” he scolds, circling his tongue on lips. Kun’s eyes stay fixed on them. “Can’t control yourself, hm?” He climbs onto his lap and pushes him down. Kun lets him without struggle, breathing a little faster. Still fully clothed, he looks so vulnerable all of a sudden, Taeil wants to _eat_ him. “Always want things your way. I should take you down a few notches. Do you want that? Want me to tie you up?”

Kun chokes up, grinding angrily against him. Taeil crashes their mouths together and pins his shoulders down, the power rush getting to his head. He drags Kun up the bed, then goes to get the silk rope and lube in his closet. Kun lets him tie his wrists together, and shakes when Taeil sits down on his lap and starts to strip. He does it tantalizingly slow, peeling off the blazer and throwing it on the floor, undoing each ribbon, the lace top, and unhooking the choker from his neck. He runs his hands down his thighs and spreads them down, the way he knows drives Kun crazy. It works each time, and Kun focuses on his movements, breathing heavily and wetting his lips. Taeil stares at them and dips down, mouth hovering an inch from his.

“So pretty,” he teases, licking up his lips. “What do you want, hm? Want to kiss me?” He plants a quick peck on them. “Want to suck me off?” He thrusts his hips forward, drawing out a sharp growl. “Or you want to eat me out?”

“Fuck,” Kun gasps, writhing. Taeil bites out a laugh and crawls on top of him, bracing one hand on the bedframe and the other in Kun’s hair under him. The first touch of his tongue on his rim sends him lurching forward with a loud cry. Taeil hears his voice almost singing as he feels Kun’s tongue push in deeper, fucking him messily.

“Oh my god—” Taeil throws his head back and moans out loud. He rides Kun’s face until his legs start to ache and his stomach’s coiling up, then he lowers himself back on his lap to see him. Kun’s pupils are blown, his lips slick with spit and cheeks flushed red. The glazed-over look he gives Taeil makes him want to take him apart.

“Tell me what you want,” he hums, taking the lube and coating his fingers. Kun’s squirming now, rutting up against him, and he clenches his teeth and lets out a frustrated noise when Taeil starts to finger himself on his lap. “You want me?” When he nods, Taeil smiles impishly and leans down again. “Beg.”

“Fuck,” he growls, “please, please—” His breath hitches when Taeil hooks his fingers in his mouth and sucks. Then Taeil can’t understand what he’s saying, realizing after a second that the language has changed. Kun hisses something and switches back: “—Taeil, fuck—fuck me, please—”

Taeil scoots back, then unbuttons Kun’s blouse and shucks off his pants. He slathers more lube on his cock and locks their eyes when he sinks down on it. Kun fills him inch by inch, wholly until there’s absolutely nothing left, and Taeil feels so full, so _perfect_ , everything about them just seems to click in place. The deep, hot feeling punches through his gut. Kun grits his teeth and shudders, hardened hands tugging the rope, then Taeil starts moving.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he moans, arching back, “so fucking good—”

“Untie me,” Kun gasps, “Taeil, untie me.”

“I want more,” Taeil whines, crying out when Kun snaps his hips up.

“I’ll give you more,” he says, “untie me.”

Taeil slows down and undoes the knot around his wrists. As soon as it loosens, Kun sits up and handles Taeil on his back. The room suddenly spins, and Taeil’s breath chokes up in his throat. He freezes up when he finds himself in the familiar scene with Johnny, only Kun’s not as big or close, crowding him down with just enough space between their bodies.

His thrusts are hard and fast, and his look is overwhelmingly hot, almost mad. It’s too good. Taeil can’t think. Kun’s hands grab his hair and Taeil babbles, moans, chokes on his spit and grips his wrists, urging him on, urging him to do more, to break him apart entirely. But then he slows down, his hands sliding to Taeil’s jaw, and he looks at him fixedly. He pauses, then leans down and kisses Taeil on the mouth. It’s quick but firm, a sweet taste lingering. He’s stopped moving when he draws back, and Taeil watches him. Kun lowers himself kisses him again, softer and longer this time. He drags his lips up his face, pressing kisses on his cheek and eyes, and Taeil’s heart beats faster.

Kun removes his hands and takes off his blouse. When he reaches back for him, Taeil circles his arms around his neck and pulls him closer. They kiss slowly, deeply, the space completely gone. There’s not an inch between them anymore. Kun buries his head in the crook of his neck and starts moving again, gentler this time, and Taeil moans quietly into his ear, hugging him tight. The shock in his body has melted away under all the warmth, loving touches Taeil’s never felt before on him, skin to skin, heart to heart. The electricity of their first meetings dissolves into a current now, coursing thoroughly through him, washing out all his nerves, and Taeil drowns in it. It’s everything.

Kun kisses him when he comes, and Taeil tries to bring them even closer. It’s not possible. There’s no going in the negative, no crossing under the zero. Kun’s lips leave his, and when Taeil finally breathes again, breathes like his head’s just come out of water, the feeling overflows and he comes with a smooth moan, a perfect note from pit of his heart, Kun’s mouth all over his face. Taeil’s body comes apart at the seams, strung out and freed into the whole room, everywhere at once.

After a long moment catching their breaths, they look at each other again, and Taeil smiles faintly. Then he starts to laugh. Kun joins in, closing his eyes and pressing their heads together. It’s light and heavy at the same time, makes Taeil’s heart flutter and ache, fly and tear, his mind always stuck between two things. He takes Kun’s face in his hands and kisses him again.

They take a bath and go to sleep. In the morning, Taeil wakes up groggy and wrapped in Kun’s arms. He’s watching him fondly, a hand stroking his hair. Though Taeil smiles, he feels faint. Kun kisses down his neck then inches toward his face.

“This is your captain speaking,” he mumbles against his lips. “Wake up.”

Taeil giggles and brings his hand back to caress his face. A loud mewling interrupts them, and Taeil turns to see his cat run into the room, growling for food. Kun holds him back when he tries to get out of bed, and Taeil pinches his cheek, sticking out his tongue.

It’s easy, undemanding. They have breakfast in bed and Taeil takes out his guitar, stringing it slowly. As he starts to sing happy birthday, he feels Kun look at him again, and meets his eyes. He’s smiling softly, a calm expression over his face. He’s never looked happier. Taeil falters, feeling the knot loosen in his heart, but his head seems to be grieving. For once, he moves his eyes away, averting the look, and lets himself be seen.  
  


—  
  


Something changes. he’s aware of it immediately. It’s in the way they look at each other now, and the way Taeil feels when Kun watches him. It’s not like it used to be. Kun used to look at him like he wanted to crack his body apart to the very last piece. Now he looks at Taeil like he’s the only thing in the world. He looks at him with something tender, and it touches Taeil in a different way. It’s not unpleasant, on the contrary, Taeil’s never felt anything as pure and good, but it makes him think too much, preoccupying him for some reason he doesn’t understand.

When work starts again, Taeil isn’t sure if they’re dating, but they keep seeing each other. Kun takes him on trips out of town, buys him presents, sends him goodnight texts. They have sex, but it’s different now as well. Kun clings onto him, touches and kisses him more, and as much as Taeil wants to hold him close, he can’t. He’s unable to. Even when Kun’s at the tip of his fingers, no space between them, when he leaves him at the end of the day with a pensive look on his face, Taeil never feels him enough. No matter how much he tries, they always move away from each other, like the same ends of a magnet. Taeil wants Kun to stay but he doesn’t at the same time. It doesn’t make sense, and he can’t figure it out.

The days when it’s bad, he has a compulsion to stream. He doesn’t do shows as often anymore, but each time he logs back on the site and sees the view count, something sets off in him again. He’s still waiting for Cherry to answer his request, and it’s making him more anxious as the days pass. Sometimes he feels guilt, an annoying discomfort that reminds him of Sicheng’s words, but it’s overpowered by the hot frustration that fills him each time he sees those numbers again on his screen.

It gets under his skin, to his head, and he starts to get impatient, and selfish. He does his most to get people’s attention, but everyone eventually looks away. Even after entire days with nothing but eyes on him, Taeil still wants more, and he’s getting restless. Kun notices, of course, he notices him plenty, and _enough_. And even if he doesn’t say anything, he keeps at looking him, tiredly, worryingly, like he’s waiting for something to happen.

Then one night in the beginning of February, he invites Taeil over for dinner. It’s good but tense, they don’t talk like before. Taeil’s on his laptop working on their new project when he suddenly gets the notification from Cherry. He immediately goes on the site and reads his reply. Cherry’s agreed to do a stream with him, on Valentine’s Day, and sent him his address and phone number.

The thing goes off in Taeil’s head, and his hands shake. He’s typing back when he hears Kun come behind him, and stops.

“What are you doing?” Kun asks, a little harshly.

“It’s Cherry,” he answers, glancing back at him. “You know Cherry? _Cherryty_ , he’s a big cammer in the community. He—”

“I know who he is,” Kun says sternly. He’s frowning. “Why are you on the site?”

Taeil pauses and gives him an impatient look. “I’m... talking to him. He—he’s agreed to do a stream with me on Valentine’s Day. I—”

“You still do shows?”

“I do,” Taeil replies curtly. “Is there a problem?”

Silence. The atmosphere’s changed abruptly. Taeil turns back to his laptop and types his reply with some added force. He can feel Kun’s heavy gaze behind him, but this time he ignores it, forcing it out and away from him. But Kun doesn’t stop looking.

“Taeil,” he calls, “why do you cam.”

Taeil slows down for a second. He thinks back to that night last year when he found Sicheng in his apartment. When he first saw the video feed and heard the sounds from the rooms. That hard feeling that took over his head in one hot moment.

“It’s not money,” Kun goes on. “You have money.”

“I like camming,” Taeil says.

There’s an upsetting minute of pause, then Kun circles the sofa and sits down in front of him. Taeil doesn’t want to look up, but he makes himself. Kun’s expression is dismayed, and slightly shocked.

“You... like it? Why would you like it?”

“What, do you think what I do is wrong?” Taeil asks, starting to get irritated, and raising his guard. “You think camming is shameful? That I’m low?”

Kun startles back. “What? No, I—Taeil, I’m not saying that at all. I just want to know why you do it.”

“Because I like it,” Taeil says hastily, “I—I like having people watch me.”

“You like having people watch you,” Kun repeats, his tone accusatory, and it makes Taeil’s skin crawl. What’s happening? Why is he hounding him like this?

“Yeah, I do. What—what’s the problem? It’s not like we’re—” Taeil closes his mouth and watches the hurt twist Kun’s face. He immediately regrets it.

“No, we’re not, but…” Kun makes to approach him but Taeil reflexively scoots back, and he stops at once, looking at him nervously. “Taeil, don’t you understand what I’m trying to say? I don’t think what you do is wrong, I just… I… I want to be enough for you.”

It’s the same feeling during his talk with Sicheng. He understands what Kun’s saying but not what he means. But then some part of Taeil starts screaming at him, telling him he _absolutely knows_ what Kun means. What Sicheng means. And that he won’t listen. He won’t face it.

“Taeil, I…” Kun sighs, and his voice turns to a whisper. “I like you.”

And the rope slips from Taeil’s side. Whatever blows up in his body tells him this is what he was afraid of. Did he get too close? Wasn’t that what he wanted, doesn’t he like Kun? Taeil looks at him now and knows he can’t deny it, as hard as he tries, but he doesn’t understand why it makes him angry, scared, and hurt so much in his heart.

“I’m leaving. I have to go see my friend,” Taeil says, closing his laptop and standing up. Kun doesn’t say anything as he walks to the door and dresses, and as painful as it is, Taeil resists. “See you tomorrow.”

He runs out without waiting for the answer. The stairs feel interminable. When Taeil finally reaches the lobby, he calls Sicheng and hurries outside. He counts each step, yells the numbers in his head so he can know how far he’s going away from Kun, and how much is left before he thinks he’s safe.

Sicheng looks terrified when he sees him and, to Taeil’s confusion, keeps his distance and walks backward while he comes inside the apartment. It gets Taeil even more stressed out. He sits on the couch and tells him everything that happened. Sicheng listens carefully, and the more Taeil talks the more he seems troubled. It’s that same odd look again. Taeil can’t take it anymore. He just wants to calm down. He needs comfort, so he asks if they can play chess. “Please, I just need to get this off my mind.”

Sicheng stares at him for too long. Taeil feels his eyes burn into his head, and it’s so scrutinizing and unnerving that he could actually break down. When he finally speaks, it’s with a quiet but tense voice: “Yeah. OK, we can play.” Taeil waits, as he doesn’t move yet. “I took the set inside. It’s in my storage closet.”

Taeil nods, feeling slightly dizzy when he stands up and follows Sicheng to the hallway. He stops beside him when he unlocks the narrow door in the middle of the wall. As it opens, Taeil’s eyes fix on the darkness that stretches out behind the door. The room is small, filled with various trinkets and clothes that hide the walls, and Taeil spies the chess set at the end of the shelf, obscured, hidden. Sicheng moves the door, drawing out a creak, and Taeil fixes the cramped, dark space in front of him, becoming wider as the inside shrinks.

“I’m going to order some food,” Sicheng says. “You can go get the set.”

Pulsing, in his blood. Something constricts in Taeil’s chest, binding his ribcage. He swallows and glances at Sicheng warily. He’s still as a statue, hand holding the door, with Taeil standing right on its path.

“I… I don’t want to,” he utters.

Sicheng doesn’t say anything, continuing to stare at him. Then he takes a step forward with the door and Taeil immediately jerks back, colliding against the wall and gasping heavily. Sicheng stops moving at once and puts his hands up. “OK, OK. It’s OK—Taeil, it’s OK.”

Taeil shakes up, trying to catch his breath. Sicheng makes no sudden movements, approaching him steadily with his hands at his sides. Inches, inches, inches. Taeil’s eyes sway from the decreasing space to Sicheng’s fearful expression.

“Taeil,” he mutters, “I think… I think you have cleithrophobia.”

Taeil gives him a lost look. “I have—what?”

“It’s the fear of getting trapped in places,” Sicheng explains. “My brother has it. It’s not like claustrophobia, but they’re related.”

A deep sound reaches Taeil’s ears, and he realizes it’s his heartbeat. He breathes out. It stops. Sicheng looks at him with worry, but suddenly what Taeil sees is _pity_. Sicheng, with his happy relationship, his healthy life, his peaceful space, and Taeil who couldn’t catch up with him. Is this the way he looks at him now? Just with sympathy? Why would he do this?

“I don’t understand,” Taeil croaks out, feeling light-headed. “What… why are we—what does this have to do with anything?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Sicheng replies, hesitant. “But… If you don’t know it. Maybe there’s a reason.”

Taeil closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“You always check the space around you, Taeil. You always take the stairs, you stand next to the exits, you move around people, you—your shows…” he interrupts himself, holding back on something, “I—I don’t know either, but look, Taeil, I think you should see someone for it. I know a psychiatrist. I can give you his number—”

“Can we just go to sleep,” Taeil snaps, unable to hear it anymore. Sicheng goes quiet. “I—I don’t want to think about it now, OK? Just… just give me some time. I just want to go to sleep. I just want to sleep.”

It’s silent for a long time before Sicheng lets out a quiet sigh and nods. He turns around to close the closet door, and when Taeil sees him move away, sees him leave, he immediately throws himself on him and hugs him as tightly as he can. No more numbers, no more measures. Sicheng slips around and locks his arms around him, and everything is numb.

They sleep in the living room, Taeil on the couch and Sicheng pulling out the mattress underneath. Taeil listens to him talk until he drifts off, tears in his eyes. Right before he falls asleep, he feels a hand reach for his, holding it gently, and fitting something in his palm. In the morning Taeil wakes up to an empty apartment, breakfast on the table with a paper note, and the spare key in his hand.

 

—

 

He remembers that day. The more he thinks about it, the less foggy that memory becomes, but it’s still locked somewhere in the back of his head, with the rest of him of that time. Taeil doesn’t want to remember. He doesn’t want to think about it at all, even if he’s pocketed the note with the number Sicheng’s given him, the two sides in his head enclosing him are fighting over his resolve, fighting over the _space_ , and he can’t endure it much longer.

The days before the show are the worst he’s felt in his life. Work is hectic with Valentine’s Day’s rush, and along with his body Taeil’s mind is exhausting itself like a match. It burns from his head to his heart and gut, and even after the damage is done it’s not over. Kun doesn’t look at him anymore. His eyes float over Taeil’s when he asks for his help around the shop, which is the only time they talk, and no matter how long Taeil stands still or how much he moves, he doesn’t feel his look, he doesn’t feel anything at all.

It’s maddening. It’s like he’s invisible. Like all they’ve been through was just wasted time, forgotten and erased. Like Kun doesn’t care. All the kisses, touches, words and looks. It’s not Taeil’s fault. Taeil wants to be with him, he wants to like him, he wants him—then what’s wrong? Why can’t it work? Why is it every time they look at each other, one of them has to look away?

Valentine’s Day. It’s late. Taeil’s ringing up the last client for the day and goes back to the fitting room to clean up the leftover clothing. Since the night at Sicheng’s, he hasn’t stopped thinking about himself each time he enters a closed space. The longer he checks around him, the more stressed he feels, and it’s like his head is purposely trying to make him fear. Taeil doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, and when he steps inside the cubicle and hangs his tape on the hook over the mirror, he looks at himself in it and feels anger. What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with _everyone else?_

Kun suddenly steps inside the room with boxes he sets down. Taeil turns to look at him, and he uses all the force in his head to make Kun look back.

“You can leave sooner. The remodeling team’s going to come in an hour to fix…” He trails off when he sees Taeil’s half-glare on him, but still doesn’t fully meet it. _Why?_ Why won’t Kun look at him anymore? Taeil doesn’t want him to stop. He won’t allow it. He’s so scared. What is he so scared of? Kun will watch him, he’ll look for him, he won’t forget him…

They stare at each other for a tense second, then Taeil bounds over to him, closing all the space between them, and crashes their mouths together. It’s rough and clumsy, and Kun freezes, grunting stiffly against Taeil’s tongue and teeth. His hands come to grab his shoulders, but he doesn’t push him off.

“I said not here—” Taeil presses him against the wall and kisses him harder. His fingers fly to Kun’s collar and quickly unbutton it, then they scratch down his sides to his belt. Close, closer, it’s all he needs now. Kun lets out a curse against his lips, then abruptly shoves him backwards. Taeil counts three and a half steps before his shoulders hit the mirror, and everything in his body instantly sets off. Heat, tremors, his voice running out of his throat. He goes to pull at Kun’s hair, getting a good grip before his wrist is caught and pinned on the glass.

“You really want to do this,” Kun growls. “I can’t believe you.”

“Fuck me,” Taeil grits out. “Come on.”

Kun pulls away and goes to close the door, but when Taeil sees it shut, the room suddenly shifts, the maroon walls connecting with the strip of the door, the space totally surrounded. He barely has a second to breathe before Kun crowds him against the mirror and kisses him furiously, and Taeil flattens himself against the mirror, trying to push back but it’s not possible.

Then suddenly Kun draws back and turns him around, grabbing his wrists together, one split-second of distraction before Taeil sees him take the pink tape from the hook and loosely circle it around them. A rough prickle immediately shoots up his arms and then Kun presses against his back, mouths at his ear and runs his hands over his shoulders, squashing Taeil further on the glass until his face is the only thing he sees, his eyes and nose and mouth obscuring everything in sight and there’s no space to put an arm between them or breathe.

“Taeil,” he hears Kun say, “Taeil, please don’t do the show.”

And the last of his resolve breaks. Taeil stiffens and stop moving, and Kun’s grip releases on his hands, backing away, inches and inches until he exits the threshold, then Taeil whips around to breathe out and meet his frightened— _guilty_ — expression with a wide-eyed scowl.

“Wh— _what the hell is the matter with you?_ ” he yells breathless, his wrists yanking off the tape but it only burns further into his skin. “What the fuck—”

“I’m so sorry—”

“No, no—stop! _Stop_ ,” he repeats, shutting his eyes, breathing out, “untie me, untie me, please.”

He braces when he feels Kun come closer again and his fingers dig into his wrists, pulling the tape off, and when Taeil opens his eyes the room is spinning closer and he hears his erratic heartbeat in his ears, knocking, ringing, going faster with each inch of his skin that’s tightening up and it feels like paper being crushed.

Kun’s looking at him, flinching each time Taeil coughs between his breaths, and after a while of nothing he slowly extends his hand holding the tape. Taeil watches it inch toward him, 19 and 18 and 17 and 16 until it goes pass it and he swipes it before it can get any closer. Then he makes himself move, stand up and stagger toward the door that’s shut, that’s locked, he’s locked in here and he needs to get out. His fingers fumble in his pocket with the keys, Sicheng’s, Kun’s, the note, one item after the other and he can’t think at all.

“Taeil,” Kun calls, “you—you don’t need a key—”

Taeil pushes the door and stumbles out. Lights, mirrors, a silence in the open air. He pockets the tape, dresses and runs out to the stairs. He takes out his phone and sends a message to Cherry, asking if he can come earlier before their show. He's unable to stay anywhere else.

Cherry lives in a townhouse 2 miles from the building. He’s on his way home, and tells Taeil he can take the key from the potted plant and wait inside until he gets there. The place is messy, dishes and glasses on the table, colourful trinkets scattered around the rooms, and the walls and furniture are matched oddly. Taeil finds the bedroom, but immediately halts when he sees the full-length trifold mirror on the other side of the bed. He steps into the room, his reflection walking toward him. There’s a desk on his left, a pink laptop sitting open with the cam site’s page on. It’s Cherry. Taeil walks toward the desk, then his eyes move to the memo board against it. There are notices sticked with pictures, and he stares at a faded polaroid of a young man smiling widely with a boy kissing his cheek.

His phone buzzes. Cherry’s almost at his stop. Taeil looks back in the mirrors and sees himself in all three. He watches his head move from the right one, then the left one, and when he looks in the middle and meets his eyes, everything stops. Every point, every angle, every inch of himself, exposed everywhere and to everyone he can’t see. It’s all he wants. And he could get it with this stream, Cherry’s thousands of viewers will see him, but then they’ll leave and it still won’t be enough. They still won’t see him when it ends. It drives Taeil mad. How does he get himself to be seen? How does he become the only thing they’ll see forever?

Inside the mirror, his reflection breathes out. Taeil suddenly understands. It’s not him they could see, it’s his body in the glass. If everyone looked at themselves in the mirror and saw Taeil and Taeil only, he could be everywhere at once and at every moment possible. He’ll be out, he’ll be everywhere, he’ll seen forever—but he can’t. He can’t be his reflection, he can’t switch space with the mirror. There’s no going in the negative, no crossing under the zero. It’s not possible.

He hears the scream in his head. His whole body shakes, tearing itself apart. Taeil brings his fists to his face and cries out, hopeless, furious. Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing is working. What does he do? If only he could have more space, if only he could live in everyone’s eyes. They can’t forget him. How does he get them to remember, how does he get them to care?

He hears the front door unlock, and his phone buzzes again. Taeil’s head empties. He glances at the laptop screen, the webcam’s eye, always recording him, always watching him. Saving him. Cherry calls out from the kitchen. Taeil moves his hand to the touchpad and drags his finger toward the streaming link. He clicks.

On the video feed, his eyes are cut out. Taeil removes his hand and slips it into his pocket, taking out the tape. He steps back to the door, keeping his eye on the video, listening to the sounds from the stream. Cherry’s coming closer to the room. Taeil uncoils the tape and holds it in his hands. He counts each _ping_ with the light steps that become clearer and clearer, until the noise is the only thing in Taeil’s head.

Then Cherry walks in, and it disappears. Taeil’s heart stops when he sees him. He’s beautiful. He’s so beautiful, with his soft traits and pink hair, Taeil’s never seen someone so pretty, so perfect. He feels horrified. Cherry’s big eyes fix on him curiously, and with concern. “Hello.”

It shatters it. Taeil feels everything break in him. The tape slips from his fingers, taking all the madness with it. He can’t believe himself. All the pressure releases from his body and he chokes up, breaking down in tears. He buries his face in his hands and shuts his eyes, wanting to cry until he blacks out. He braces himself when he feels arms surround him, stroking his back gently.

“Hey, it’s OK—it’s all right…”

Taeil sobs, shaking against the warm body. Cherry shushes him quietly, giving comforting pats. “It’s all right, it’s all right... What is it?”

“I don’t want to do it,” Taeil hiccups, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, you don’t have to,” Cherry says, voice soft. “It’s all right.”

Taeil nods, tears falling down his throat. Cherry helps him breathe, holding his hand and whispering kindly. Something in Taeil opens, flows out at last, slowly but surely like ice melting, and he calms down. It's over. He lets go.

The noises from the laptop fade away, and they turn to look at the screen.

 

—  
  
  


It’s snowing outside. Taeil watches the flurry of white fall down on the city night. The world is out. Kun stands in front of the windows, his laptop open on the cam site, on the coffee table. Taeil stares at his reflection, stares at himself, his body that's out, all those looks and prints on his skin, marks and bruises, then gazes and touches, kisses and whispers. It's all out. He looks back and meets Kun's doleful eyes.

“It’s not you,” he says, “it’s me.”

Kun frowns lightly. Taeil waits a moment before going on: “I—I’m not well. I need time. I have to work on some things of my own.”

It’s difficult. Taeil spent the entire walk to his condo dialing and undialing the number on Sicheng’s note, but he stayed through until the line picked up, just as the first snow fell. For the first time, he saw nothing else but what was in front of him. And as much as it hurts now, they both understand. They both know.

“OK,” Kun replies, then repeats for the nth time: “I’m sorry.”

Taeil looks at him for a long time, and he smiles. “Don’t be.”

Silence falls back in the room. It's the most painful part, but he has to get it out. It can't hurt them anymore. Taeil doesn’t want to draw it out any longer, so he walks back to the door, making to leave. Kun follows him and takes out his keys.

“I’m meeting with Ten,” he says, “do you want me to drive you home?”

Taeil gives it a thought, and nods. They dress without haste, and when Taeil looks at him again, he feels relieved, he feels free. Kun stares at him blankly. Taeil breathes out, steps toward him, and his arms reach around his neck, pulling him close, feeling him one last time. After a moment of stillness, Kun returns the embrace, holding him gently. It's warm, comforting, his heartbeat like music. Taeil draws his arm back as he pulls away, until the tip of his fingers rest against his shoulder. The same numbers.

Kun unlocks the door and lets him out first. Taeil tells him distractedly: “See you tomorrow.”

A soft smile pulls at his lips. “See you.”

On the laptop, an icon lights up with a chiming sound that echoes in the empty room. Cherry’s streaming.

 

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentine's day 
> 
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